Revenge of the Fox
by Katherine Dark
Summary: An old adversary of Jack Sparrow kidnaps Elizabeth, Annamaria, Gwen and Antonia and sends the Black Pearl on a desperate treasure hunt to find them. Sequel to Passage to St. Kitts and Show Me the Horizon
1. Default Chapter

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Author's note** Please keep in mind that I do not own any of the characters of Pirates of the Caribbean, and I am not making money off this.  
  
It was a dismal evening in a rather dismal tavern. The rough hewn benches and tables were battered and scarred, and strewn with dirty dishes and bits of discarded food that no one had bothered to clean up. The fire choked in its own ash, and the cheap tallow dip candles sputtered sullenly. The rain streaked down the grimy windowpanes. The whole place reeked of stale beer. The young nobleman sitting at one of the tables looked completely out of place in his velvet coat and lace cravat. Seemingly unconscious of his surroundings, young Lord Marlby prattled enthusiastically on and on, describing the ship he'd pinned all his dreams of adventure on.  
  
"I've named her the Lady Fortuna, of course," he beamed at his companion. "And a lovely lady she is! We'll have a splendid time in the West Indies, and end up as rich as Midas."  
  
His companion was nowhere near as young or as enthusiastic, but he summoned up a charming smile. "Of course you will! Give me some time to round up a suitable crew, and we'll be on our way."  
  
His lordship pulled out his purse and dropped several silver coins on the table. "Shall I meet you here again next week then?"  
  
"Yes indeed, my lord. Until then." Reynard watched the young fool exit the tavern. The dolt had just spent his entire inheritance on a ship. Well, if the idiot boy wanted to go to sea, then Reynard had no objections. He'd come up with a suitable crew, all right. Even in merry old England, suitable men could be found. Suitable for his own purposes, that is.  
  
Idly he glanced at the pages of the newspaper the lad had left on the table. A name jumped out at him, and he stopped to read the announcement more carefully.  
  
"The Honorable Mr. Weatherby Swann, Governor of Jamaica, proudly announces the betrothal of his niece, Miss Antonia Swann to Commodore James Norrington of Fort Charles in Port Royal, Jamaica. The happy couple met aboard the privateer vessel, The Black Pearl, manned by Captain Jack Sparrow. The bride will be attended by her cousin, Mrs. William Turner."  
  
Reynard sat back mulling the information over. Norrington. Sparrow. Turner. He looked again at the announcement, noting the date of the wedding. Hmmm. Time enough.  
  
--  
  
Once again, the grounds of the Governor's house in Port Royal were decked out in white satin and flowers for a wedding. This time, however, the Governor was more pleased by the bridegroom. Last year, he'd met his long lost niece, Antonia, the only child of his younger brother. Commodore Norrington had rescued her, in rather gallant fashion, and the two had fallen in love. After the initial shock, Governor Swann had been delighted with his niece, taking her to his heart and home. Today was her wedding day. He glanced at his watch. He hoped she'd be ready soon. The wedding was due to start in less than twenty minutes.  
  
--  
  
Antonia sat at her dressing table, while her maid finished arranging her hair. The glossy black locks had been pinned and curled and arranged in an elaborate style just waiting for the sheer silk organza veil that lay draped over the bed. She stood up carefully, shaking out the white satin skirts of her wedding gown. "Thank you, Ellen, Mrs. Turner will help me with my veil. The maid curtsied and went out. Antonia smiled nervously at her cousin, Elizabeth, resplendent in her own pale blue silk gown.  
  
"Were you this terrified at your wedding?" Asked Antonia.  
  
"Oh, Tonia, everything will be fine!" Elizabeth laughed. "Now hold still, I've got something for you." Pulling out a small box, Elizabeth handed it to her cousin. With a startled glance, Antonia took the box and opened it. Inside was a pair of pearl and diamond earrings. "They're from Will and me," said Elizabeth, taking the box back and lifting the earrings out. Leaning forward, she fastened them to Antonia's ears. "A gift to mark your wedding day. I knew they'd suit this dress," she said stepping back to admire the effect.  
  
"Oh, Elizabeth! Thank you so much!" Tears brimmed in Antonia's eyes and she reached out to grasp Elizabeth's hands. "And not just for the earrings. You've been so good to me!"  
  
"Don't start crying," Elizabeth ordered. "You don't want to get married with red eyes, do you?" She leaned forward and kissed Antonia on the cheek. "I'm so happy for you, and so happy for James. You two deserve each other." Turning, Elizabeth walked over to the bed and lifted the veil. As she did so, a movement caught the corner of her eyes. Her head jerked up, and she saw two men slip into the room through the open door to the balcony. Even as her mouth opened to scream, she saw the pistol aimed at her head.  
  
"Don't be making a sound, lass," warned the first man. He came forward toward Elizabeth as the second man started for Antonia, taking her arm and holding a knife to her throat. "Now, you would be Mrs. William Turner, am I correct?"  
  
"Yes," Elizabeth whispered.  
  
"Excellent," said the man. He was only slightly above average height, but his air of authority made him seem taller. Sharp features, black hair and cold gray eyes. "I'm assuming that the blushing bride," he indicated Antonia, "is your cousin Antonia Swann, so there is just one lady left to join our little party. " He came closer to Elizabeth and rested the muzzle of the pistol gently against her neck. "Now, what I need you to do, Mrs. Turner, is to go to the door and call for whatever servant is nearby. Tell that person to go fetch Mrs. Sparrow and ask her to step up here." The pistol pressed harder into her flesh. "If you try to warn anyone that we're here, I'll have my confederate here," he gestured to the man holding Antonia, "cut your cousin's pretty throat. Do ye understand me, lass?"  
  
Elizabeth looked over at Antonia. She was standing still as a statue, her face as white as her gown. The rough looking man behind her held her left arm behind her back, and held a knife against her throat. "I understand," she whispered.  
  
"All right then." He stepped back a pace, and gestured her to the door.  
  
Elizabeth opened the door slightly and looked out. "Ellen?" She called. "Ellen, are you there?"  
  
The maid appeared at the end of the hall. "Yes, ma'am. Do you need anything?"  
  
Elizabeth managed a smile. "Would you go find Mrs. Sparrow and ask her to step up here for a moment, please? Thank you." She stepped back and closed the door again.  
  
"Well done, Mrs. Turner," purred the dark haired man. "Now we wait."  
  
--  
  
"I cannot stand this dress," complained Annamaria. "Why did I let you talk me into this?" She looked with distaste at the wine red silk gown.  
  
"You look lovely," said Gwen, unperturbed. She herself was wearing a brocade gown the color of pine needles, trimmed with gold braid.  
  
"The neckline is too low. I feel ridiculous." Gwen just smiled.  
  
"Excuse me, Mrs. Sparrow?" Said a voice nearby. Gwen turned to see a maid standing there. "Mrs. Turner asked me to fetch you upstairs to Miss Antonia's room."  
  
"To Miss Antonia's room?" Gwen repeated in puzzlement. "Whatever for?"  
  
"I'm not sure, ma'am. Shall I show you the way?"  
  
"Yes, thank you." Gwen turned to Annamaria, "Excuse me, I'll be back in a moment."  
  
"I'm coming with you," said Annamaria firmly. "If you think I'm going to stand around in this crowd alone wearing this dress you're insane."  
  
"Where did Joseph take off to?" Gwen asked as they moved toward the stairs.  
  
"I suspect he's in the stables. I had to force him to come at all."  
  
"Why didn't you let him stay aboard ship if he's so uncomfortable?"  
  
"If I had to come to this thing, he had to come. I wasn't going to suffer alone."  
  
"Annamaria, darling," said Gwen dryly. "You rarely suffer alone." They'd reached the upstairs hallway by this point. "Just point me to the right door," Gwen said to the maid. "I'm sure you have a great deal to do today."  
  
"Yes, ma'am, thank you. It's the last door on the left." The maid smiled, curtsied, and hurried back down the stairs.  
  
Gwen and Annamaria approached Antonia's door. "Elizabeth?" Gwen tapped lightly on the door. "It's Gwen."  
  
The door opened rapidly, and Gwen had only a split second to wonder why Elizabeth's eyes were so wide and face so pale when she saw the pistol pressed up against her friend's temple. Gwen stepped back quickly, but the man holding the pistol spoke softly. "Come in, Mrs. Sparrow, or your friend will regret it." Gwen exchanged a quick, horrified look with Annamaria, but saw no option but to obey the command. Annamaria's first instinct was the reach for her sword, but instead of the familiar hilt, her hand only felt the soft silken folds of her gown. What a time to be unarmed!  
  
Gwen stepped through the doorway, followed by Annamaria. Warily she scanned the room, noting that Antonia was seated at the dressing table, bound and gagged. The first man spoke. "Well, well. I set my trap for one lady, and reeled in two. Who are you, my dear?"  
  
Gwen spoke quickly. "She's my maid."  
  
He smirked. "A maid wearing silk? I think not. I've done some research on Captain Jack Sparrow and the Black Pearl. This would be Annamaria Simone, would it not?"  
  
"What if it is?" Annamaria answered coldly. "What is that to you?"  
  
He laughed softly. "I'm Reynard the Fox, sweetheart. I have a score to settle with Captain Jack Sparrow. Not to mention bones to pick with Commodore Norrington and William Turner." Without turning he called, "Men, ready the ladies for their trip."  
  
Several more men appeared from the balcony. Elizabeth, Gwen and Annamaria were quickly bound and gagged, and then all four women were wrapped in blankets. One by one they were dropped over the balcony into the waiting arms of Reynard's men and carried into the woods. Reynard placed a folded letter addressed to Jack Sparrow on the dressing table, and then he climbed down from the balcony and disappeared into the woods with his men. 


	2. Chapter 2

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Will walked from the garden to the house, nodding and smiling at the guests who were milling around. He moved with more confidence among the elite society of Jamaica than he had on his own wedding day two years previously. Since the voyage to St. Kitts last year, he'd found his niche, balanced neatly between the mundane life of the blacksmith and the exciting life of a privateer. When he and Elizabeth had returned from St. Kitts, with his share of the plunder of three Spanish ships, they'd purchased their own home in Port Royal. While it wasn't nearly as large as the Governor's house, it was comfortably roomy and situated on a street with the homes of other successful craftsmen, merchants and minor aristocrats. The compromise he and Elizabeth had made was working out very well. Elizabeth had hired a housekeeper, a manservant and one maid to keep the household in order and do the cooking. Will had taken on an apprentice to aid him in his shop. This lad had taken well to the basics of the job, and relieved Will of a lot of the routine work. It left him free to concentrate of the swords he was rapidly becoming well known for throughout the Caribbean. He now had a number of orders for custom swords and knives to fill. If it wasn't a long list, at least it was a respectable one. He'd taken another voyage on the Pearl a while back, only returning a few weeks ago. This time Elizabeth hadn't accompanied him; she'd been busy helping Antonia with all the wedding plans. He'd missed her a great deal, but had to admit the time apart had been beneficial to them both. Absence does make the heart grow fonder, he mused. Certainly the reunion had been well, warm. So he moved through the crowd, a handsome young man with his head held high, the confidence of knowing himself to be successful evident in the relaxed line of his shoulders.  
  
"Will!" A voice called out. Governor Swann gestured to him. "Will, would you go upstairs and find out what is keeping those girls? The wedding should have started nearly half an hour ago!"  
  
Will smiled at his father-in-law. It really was easier to be fond of the man when he didn't have to live with him. "I'm sure they're just fussing over Antonia's hair or some such thing and lost track of time. I'll go and see." He clapped the Governor on the shoulder and started up the stairs. Reaching Antonia's bedchamber, he tapped lightly on the door. "Elizabeth? Antonia? Are you ready yet?" When there was no answer, he tapped again a little louder. "Elizabeth?" Cautiously opening the door, he called out again. "Ladies, are you here?" Entering the room, he stared perplexed at the crumpled veil on the floor by the bed. Quickly he checked the room, glancing out onto the balcony, noting the bruised and broken vines along the trellis. Alarmed now, he returned to the bedroom, and only then noticed the note on the dressing table. Once upon a time, Will would never have opened a letter addressed to someone else. However, too much association with Jack Sparrow had blunted many of his sensibilities. Quickly he picked up the letter and scanned the contents. His heart skipped a beat as he read and for a moment he felt almost dizzy. Taking a deep breath, he flung open the door and strode down the hallway, and hurried down the stairs.  
  
"Governor, there's a problem," he said tersely. "Go up to Antonia's room and I'll explain." He started across the foyer to the garden. "You!" He called to a footman. "You'll find Commodore Norrington in the study. Send him up to Miss Antonia's room immediately." Leaving the startled footman and bewildered Governor staring after him, he strode rapidly out of the house. Weaving quickly through the wedding guests, Will searched for Jack. Finally he saw him chatting animatedly to several gentlemen who were looking at him in astonishment. Although Gwen had gotten Jack into a perfectly respectable looking suit of clothes - black velvet coat laced with gold and matching black breeches and waistcoat, he was still wearing his faded red headscarf and his hair was still braided with beads, coins and other baubles, presenting a rather incongruous sight. Jack was also swaying on his feet and waving his wineglass around as he retold (with great exaggeration) the tales of his latest voyage. "That had better be an act," muttered Will. Quickly he went up to the group and took Jack by the arm. "Excuse me, gentlemen, for interrupting. Jack, I need to talk to you." With a smile he hauled Jack away.  
  
"What's up with you, lad?" Complained the pirate, shaking his arm loose from Will's grasp. "I was just getting to the best part of me story!"  
  
"Jack, we've got a serious problem," said Will tensely.  
  
"The bride's not having second thoughts, is she?" Asked Jack amiably.  
  
"Worse. She's been kidnapped, along with Elizabeth and Gwen."  
  
Instantly the amiable tipsy expression disappeared from Jack's face, replaced by a sharp, cold look. He stopped and grabbed Will's shoulder, spinning him around to look into his face. There was fear in Will's eyes. "You're serious."  
  
"Deadly serious," Will replied. "The kidnappers left a letter for you. Come upstairs, I need to explain this to the Commodore and the Governor yet."  
  
Jack snatched the letter out of Will's hand and read it quickly. "Reynard," he muttered.  
  
--  
  
Gwen lay sandwiched between Annamaria and Antonia. Both women were shaking. Gwen figured that Annamaria was shaking with rage, and Antonia was shaking with fear. She herself was feeling remarkably calm. Once they'd been wrapped up in blankets, they'd been unable to see. Gwen had felt herself carried for a while, and then she'd been placed on a hard surface, crammed between two other bodies. When she felt movement, she'd realized that they were lying in a wagon of some sort. The cloth wrapped around her head was making it difficult to breathe and the jolting of the wagon didn't help. She concentrated on breathing in and out slowly and carefully. What was Jack likely to do when he found her missing? It shouldn't take too long to realize that something was wrong. When Elizabeth and Antonia didn't come down for the ceremony someone would investigate. Gwen took comfort in that fact. The combined influence of Commodore Norrington, Governor Swann and Captain Jack Sparrow should insure that the kidnappers were caught before long. And if the Commodore and the Governor weren't able to do anything legally, Gwen had no doubt that Jack, Will and Joseph would take other measures.  
  
Annamaria was indeed shaking with rage. She couldn't believe she'd been captured with so little effort. For a moment she'd been tempted to run instead of walking into that room. But she'd seen Reynard's eyes. He'd have shot Elizabeth instantly if she'd done so. Elizabeth had been too good a friend to her to let her die that way. So, Annamaria had docilely allowed herself to be bound, gagged and carried off, like a stupid damsel in distress. So here she was, crammed in a tiny space between the side of a wagon and another body (Gwen, she thought), being jolted down the road, hardly able to breathe between the blanket wrapped around her head and the ridiculous corset that was cutting off her air supply. A corset. Annamaria Simone, second mate of the Black Pearl, the most fearsome pirate (okay, privateer) ship in the Caribbean, was being carted away wearing a silk dress and a corset. She didn't even have a knife on her person.  
  
Antonia was indeed shaking with fear. Her mind was whirling with frightening images. Today was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. Instead, it had become the most terrifying. Who were these people, and why did they want her? That man, Reynard, had said he had scores to settle with Jack Sparrow, Will and James. What did he intend to do to them? Struggling for composure, Antonia breathed as deeply as her corset would allow. She had to get a grip on herself. She had to regain control.  
  
Elizabeth was not shaking. Her quick-witted mind was turning over every scrap of conversation she'd overheard from their captors. They had the look of seafaring men. Pirates, no doubt, who had run afoul of Commodore Norrington as well as Jack Sparrow. What score might they have against Will? He'd only been on two voyages with Jack, and they'd met only Spanish ships on those trips. These men didn't seem Spanish. They were English speaking. She'd heard one of them mention Tortuga. Did that mean they were headed to Tortuga? Surely her father and the Commodore would close the harbor as soon as they realized that she and the other women were missing. They would be found, Elizabeth was sure of it. 


	3. Chapter 3

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 3  
  
As Will and Jack approached Antonia's room, they saw the footman Will had sent to fetch Norrington hovering indecisively in the hall.  
  
"You know Joseph, don't you?" Jack asked. When the man nodded, Jack continued. "Good. Find him and tell him I want he and Annamaria up here as soon as possible."  
  
As the man hurried off, Will pushed open the door of the room and entered, followed by Jack. When the Governor saw them he exclaimed. "What in heavens name is going on!" Norrington, in faultless dress uniform stood tightlipped nearby. Lt. Markson stood next to him, looking anxious.  
  
Jack thrust the letter at Norrington. "Read it aloud," he said.  
  
Norrington took the letter warily and unfolded it. "My dear Captain Sparrow," he read. "I'm sure you're surprised to hear from me, as it has been a very long time. However, it appears it is time for our paths to cross again. I've taken the liberty of taking your wife with me to guard against any rash action on your part. As I have issues with both Commodore Norrington and William Turner, I have taken their women along as well. The ladies will not be harmed if you follow my instructions to the letter. You are expected in Tortuga within the week. Set sail on the Black Pearl, with Norrington and Turner aboard. Make sure the Commodore understands that I will not tolerate interference by the Royal fleet. Go to the Salty Dog tavern in Tortuga and ask at the bar for Johnson. More instructions will be forthcoming then. If you fail to do this, I will no longer guarantee the safety of Mrs. Sparrow, Mrs. Turner and Miss Swann. Yours devotedly, Reynard the Fox."  
  
Norrington lowered the letter and looked at Jack. "Who," he asked, his voice icy, "is Reynard the Fox?"  
  
Jack was stalking up and down the room, apparently unable to stand still. "His full name is Reynard Barbossa. Does that help you place him?"  
  
"Barbossa?" Will asked.  
  
"Yes, his elder brother was good old Captain Barbossa, who we liberated from his living death curse a few years back." Jack stopped pacing for a moment and looked at Will. "He sailed with me on the Pearl for a while back before the mutiny. He left the ship before Barbossa took it over. I always thought he was hedging his bets in case it hadn't succeeded. Cold bastard. Selfish as they come. Arrogant as all hell." He began pacing again. "From what I heard, he sailed on the Pearl when Barbossa was Captain on and off. He hasn't been in the Caribbean for the last few years as far as I know." He stopped again and looked at Norrington. "The issues he mentions are probably the death of his brother and the fact that you hung the rest of the crew. I'm his primary target because I'm the one who shot Barbossa, but taking revenge on you and Will is something he probably finds amusing."  
  
Will spoke up. "They probably got in here by climbing up the trellis on the balcony. The vines on it are broken."  
  
Norrington nodded curtly. "Markson, take some men and see if there is a trail that can be followed. Before you do that, find Gillette. Tell him I want the harbor sealed. No ships are to sail out without being thoroughly searched."  
  
"Yes sir," Markson said, and left quickly. A moment later the door opened again, admitting the footman, Joseph and Ellen, Antonia's maid.  
  
"Captain," said Joseph. "We cannot find Annamaria." There was a growing fear in Joseph's dark eyes. "What is happening?"  
  
Ellen spoke up timidly. "Mrs. Turner sent me to fetch Mrs. Sparrow up here, sir. Miss Simone accompanied her."  
  
Will closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. "So he's taken Annamaria too."  
  
"Joseph," said Jack, putting his hands on Joseph's shoulders. "It seems that Miss Swan, Mrs. Turner, Gwen and Annamaria have been kidnapped. We're going to go after them as soon as we can get the Pearl ready to sail. Gibbs is staying at the Pelican down by the docks. Go there and tell him I need the Pearl ready to make way by nightfall. He'll need your help. Go."  
  
Will stepped forward and looked Joseph in the eye. "We'll find them, Joseph. Depend on it."  
  
Joseph took a deep breath. "Aye, sir. We will." He nodded to the Governor and the Commodore, turned and left.  
  
"Norrington," Jack said. "I'll expect you aboard in time to catch the evening tide. Don't wear your uniform, it wouldn't be safe in Tortuga." Norrington nodded curtly.  
  
Governor Swann spoke up, addressing the footman. "We'll have to get rid of all the guests downstairs. As soon as they're gone, please assemble the entire staff. Perhaps someone saw something that will prove useful."  
  
"I'll help you usher everyone out, sir." Will said to Governor Swann. The two headed for the door. "Though I cannot imagine what we're going to say."  
  
--  
  
The room was small, barely big enough for the large bed in the center of it. Elizabeth sat on the bed distastefully. It was draped with a tacky looking red satin coverlet that was none too clean. The four women had been shoved into this little room moments ago, and their bonds were cut. Reynard stood by the door gazing at her mockingly. "I'm sure this isn't the sort of accommodation you are accustomed to, Mrs. Turner, however it will do for the moment. You will stay here until dark. There is no point in screaming, no one will heed you in this place." As if to add color to his words, there was a high pitched shriek from the room next door, along with the rhythmic creaking from an overused bed.  
  
"We're in a brothel, then?" Gwen asked conversationally, massaging her wrists.  
  
"That's correct, Mrs. Sparrow. As you can see there are no windows, and there will be a guard outside this door at all times until it is time to depart."  
  
"May I inquire as to our destination?"  
  
"No, Mrs. Sparrow, you may not. If you ladies are obedient and well behaved you will not be harmed."  
  
Annamaria looked at him coldly. "You expect us to believe that, you bastard?"  
  
Reynard raised his eyebrows. "Of course, Miss Simone. I have no interest in hurting women. If your husbands and lovers do what they are told, there will be no reason to harm you. However," he leaned closer to Annamaria, "of the ladies present, you are the most expendable one, so I advise you to keep a civil tongue in your heard." With a sardonic smirk, he opened the door and exited. A moment later they distinctly heard the sound of a bolt sliding home.  
  
"Well. Here we are." Gwen looked around at the others. "Is everyone all right, no one is hurt?"  
  
"Antonia?" Elizabeth went over to her.  
  
Antonia raised her head. Her elaborate hairstyle was a wreck and her face was tear stained, but she took a deep breath and made an effort to compose herself. "Well this is one hell of a wedding day, wouldn't you say?"  
  
"You'll have another wedding day, Tonia, as soon as we're found," said Elizabeth. "Don't think for a moment that the Commodore won't tear this island apart looking for you."  
  
Antonia smiled. "I know he will. And whatever stones he doesn't overturn, Will, Joseph and Jack will see to."  
  
Gwen smiled encouragingly. "That's right. All we need to do is stay alert and do what we can to help find us." She turned to Annamaria, "And you, Anna, have to keep control of your temper. Don't goad him into hurting you."  
  
"I know, I'm just so furious!" Annamaria answered. "I can't believe I was captured like that. I can't believe I was so stupid!"  
  
"Anna, you didn't have any choice," said Elizabeth. "It's got nothing to do with stupidity. If you had tried to fight, that would have been stupid."  
  
"So stop berating yourself over getting caught, and let's spend our energy figuring out how to get out of this mess," said Gwen.  
  
--  
  
Markson and the two soldiers he'd scrounged up from the wedding guests followed the trail into the woods. The kidnappers hadn't been able to be all that stealthy. From the looks of the footprints, the women were being carried. Encouraged, he ran faster along the path. Abruptly, however, the trail ended. There were signs of a wagon that had been waiting beside the road. However, once the wagon had pulled onto the road, the tracks were lost amid a multitude of similar tracks. The road, Markson knew, led to the rougher section of Port Royal near the waterfront. We'll do a house-to- house search if we have to, he thought grimly. 


	4. Chapter 4

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 4  
  
**Author's note** After seeing the deleted scenes of the POTC DVD, I realize that Norrington actually DOES have a first name. So I replaced everywhere I used the name 'Roger' with the name 'James' both in this and my last story (Passage to St. Kitts). If I messed up and forgot one, please let me know!  
  
Norrington had himself rowed out to the Black Pearl an hour before the evening tide. A rope ladder was flung down to him, so he slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and climbed up. Once on deck, he leaned back over, uttered a few curt orders to his rowers, and turned to search out Captain Sparrow. He found Jack in the Captain's cabin, going over lists of supplies with Gibbs. Jack looked up. "I see you found something else to wear," he said, nodding toward Norrington's buckskin breeches, plain blue coat and the plain black tricorn that sat on Norrington's own dark hair.  
  
"I did," said Norrington dryly. "The garrison of Fort Charles is doing a house to house search of the waterfront area. So far however, nothing has turned up."  
  
Jack nodded. "I don't expect it to. Reynard isn't going to be caught over something as obvious as that."  
  
"You think he's left the island?"  
  
"Aye. Not sure how he's managed it, but he won't be caught here." Jack folded his arms and cocked his head back. "I'm in need of a second mate for this trip, Norrington. Are ye interested? It'll give you something to do besides worrying."  
  
"Yes, thank you, Captain. I'll do it."  
  
"Good. You're assigned the cabin Miss Swann stayed in during our little trip last year. Your first watch is at dawn. Gibbs will rouse you." Norrington nodded and turned to go. "Oh, mate, hold on a minute." Jack turned to Gibbs. "That'll be all for now. I'll be up on deck shortly."  
  
"Aye, Cap'n," Gibbs said as he exited.  
  
When the two men were alone, Jack turned back to Norrington. "There's only one Captain aboard the Black Pearl, Commodore, and that's me. If you have any questions or problems with how I run my ship, I'll be happy to discuss them with you, but in private only. In public, you say 'Aye, Captain' and do what you're told. Savvy?"  
  
Norrington looked at Jack for a moment then spoke. "Understood. To do otherwise would be too confusing for your crew. However, know this, Sparrow. My primary concern is the safe recovery of the ladies. I know you. You're going to try and wiggle your way though this situation with your own hide and your ship intact. If these goals don't conflict then we have no problem. However, if they do, I won't hesitate for a moment to sacrifice you and your precious Black Pearl."  
  
Jack was silent for a moment before he spoke. "Believe it or not, Norrington, I have no problem with that. If I sacrificed my Gwen for the sake of my ship I'd never be able to look meself in the eye again. Keep this in mind too, mate. Reynard isn't looking for money. He wants revenge. That means my blood, and likely yours and young Will's as well. If it comes to that, I'll expect you to abandon me on the instant and get the ladies away however you can."  
  
"Do you really expect him to return the women if we do whatever it is he wants?"  
  
Jack regarded Norrington levelly. "No," he said with finality. "All four of them are young and good looking. Antonia and Elizabeth especially so. All four would fetch a pretty penny in the fleshpots of any city. He wouldn't dare sell them in the Caribbean, but in Europe, India or North Africa? No, he won't return them."  
  
"So he intends to lead us to our deaths, then keep the women anyway?"  
  
Jack nodded. "You've got it Commodore. Charming fellow, eh?"  
  
"Very."  
  
"So you see, mate, this is where we're at. I'm going to try to wiggle through the situation, as you put it, with my skin and my ship intact. I'm also going to try to keep your skin and Will's skin in one piece as well. But it isn't going to be easy, and I'm not counting on it. The chain of command is from me, to you, to Will. Do we understand each other?"  
  
"Aye, Captain," said Norrington with a quirk of his eyebrow. "We understand each other."  
  
--  
  
The women looked up as the door opened. Reynard entered and tossed an armload of garments on the bed. "The gowns you're wearing are too conspicuous. I trust you'll find these a reasonable fit. Here's some food as well," he added as another man brought in a tray. "Eat up. We'll be leaving in approximately thirty minutes." The second man set the tray down on the bed, and they both left, the bolt shooting home a moment later.  
  
Elizabeth picked up the top garment, a battered gray skirt. "Well, I suppose these will be more practical."  
  
"I don't suppose there are any breeches," said Annamaria without much hope, sorting through the garments.  
  
"I have an idea," said Gwen. "Antonia, you don't mind sacrificing your wedding gown, do you?"  
  
Antonia shrugged. "It's already ruined whatever you do," she said, indicating the pulls in the delicate fabric from the rough wood of the wagon. "What did you have in mind?  
  
--  
  
Thirty minutes later, Reynard unlocked the door and looked inside. "Good, they're asleep." The drugs he'd laced the food with had done their job. The ladies had stripped off their fancy gowns and donned the simple clothing he'd brought. A pile of brightly color silk and satin lay on the foot of the bed. Reynard nodded in satisfaction and gestured for his men to enter. "You know what to do. Split up and meet me at the ship in three days. If any of you fail me, I'll skin you alive." As the men carried the unconscious women from the room, Reynard scooped up the pile of discarded gowns and walked out. He didn't notice the small scrap of white satin tied around the leg of the bed. 


	5. Chapter 5

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Elizabeth drifted in and out of consciousness. She was vaguely aware of a rocking motion, and a low voice issuing nautical commands. Was she on a ship? Dreamily she thought of the last trip she and Will had taken aboard the Black Pearl. There was something very satisfying about the warm embrace of a man while the ship you were on rolled and swayed with the motion of the sea. A faint frown of puzzlement creased her forehead as her bleary brain registered the fact that she was not, in fact, in the warm embrace of anyone. The boat lurched suddenly, knocking her head against the wooden side of the boat. She blinked and opened her eyes. She was in a small area. One side of her prison was curved. The side of the boat, perhaps? Light gleamed through small cracks in the planks over her head. Hard feet thudded, seemingly right over her. Elizabeth raised her hands, which were bound in front of her. There wasn't enough room to sit up, but she was able to push the gag out of her mouth. She ran her tongue over dry cracked lips. Much better. This must be some sort of concealed storage area just below the deck of a small boat. She wondered where the other women were. Obviously they'd all been drugged.  
  
"We're well away from Port Royal now," said the rough voice of a man. "We can 'ead for the rendezvous now."  
  
"Aye," said a second voice. "'ell of a good joke, watching the soldiers searching all the ships in the 'arbor. They didn't even look twice at a tiny little fishing boat!"  
  
"That's the idea," said the first voice, sounding surly. "The Fox knows what 'e's doing."  
  
Elizabeth listened carefully. It appeared that she was alone on this little boat with these two men. Screaming wasn't going to be a worthwhile option. She'd have to bide her time and wait. But in the meantime, she pulled a small strip of white satin out of her bodice and searched for someplace she could secure it where it wouldn't be readily apparent.  
  
--  
  
A hand roughly shook her shoulder and then slapped her face lightly. Gwen blinked and shook her head slightly. What was going on? "Wake up," a voice said.  
  
Another voice spoke. "We've gone as far as we can with the cart. Get her up on the horse. She only needs to be coherent enough to hold on."  
  
Memory sluggishly returned to Gwen's foggy brain. Where was she now? She lifted her hands, which were bound in front of her. The man who'd woken her turned away. To get a horse, maybe? She managed to pull a scrap of white satin from her bodice and clutched it in her hand as the man turned back to her. He grasped her arms and hauled her upright, supporting her as she swayed. He failed to notice the piece of white fabric that fluttered to the ground. He pulled her over to a horse, and hoisted her up into the saddle. It was difficult to arrange her skirts with her hands bound, but she managed to tuck enough fabric between herself and the saddle to protect her skin. Not that it was going to matter much if they were going to ride for any length of time. Gwen couldn't remember the last time she'd been on a horse, and that had been sidesaddle rather than astride. She looked around. They were in a small clearing. The horse she was on, a fairly small gray animal, was still tethered to a tree. Two men were in the process of hiding a small cart in the underbrush. Reynard was already mounted on a nice looking bay horse.  
  
"Back with us then, Mrs. Sparrow? I daresay I need not caution you not to try to escape. We'd run you down in moments," he said.  
  
"Where are the other women?" Gwen asked.  
  
Reynard laughed. "It was easier to slip away from Port Royal if we split up, my dear. You'll see your friends again." He looked at her appraisingly. "I am enormously curious about you, Mrs. Sparrow. I find myself wondering what it is about you that could bring a man like Jack Sparrow to the alter. You're attractive enough, I suppose, but nowhere near as beautiful as Mrs. Turner or Miss Swann."  
  
Gwen raised her eyebrows. "Your flattery warms my heart."  
  
Reynard ignored that and continued. "Back when I knew Jack he had a woman in every port. I can't imagine what would induce him to not only to marry, but what would make him bring you to sea with him rather than leave you in some port town to wait for him to visit you three or four times a year."  
  
Gwen shrugged. "It seems you don't know him as well as you think you do."  
  
"It appears I don't. I look forward to becoming better acquainted with his wife, however."  
  
Gwen struggled to clear the remaining fog from her mind. Reynard was clever. He wanted to use her to gain insight into how Jack thought, what he might do. She mustn't let anything slip. Thankfully at that moment the other men finished hiding the cart, and mounted their own horses. Reynard took one last long look at Gwen, before turning his mount and heading off up the trail. One of the men took the lead rope on Gwen's horse and led her after him. The last man fell in behind.  
  
--  
  
Slowly, the jolting movement of the wagon filtered its way into Annamaria's consciousness. It seemed familiar, if not altogether comfortable. After one particularly hard bump rapped her head into the wall, Annamaria's memory returned. Bloody hell. She was tied up again, and stuck back in that same damn wagon. It was less crowded this time. Turning her head, she could see Antonia, but not the other two women. Where were they? Her last memory was of finishing that rather mediocre meal back at the whorehouse. It must have been drugged. She looked around. There were a number of wooden planks over her head. Some sort of false bottom on the wagon she thought. She reached out with her bound hands and nudged Antonia. No response; she must still be unconscious. Annamaria pulled a torn scrap of white satin from her bodice and stuffed it into a small knothole in the wood of the wagon bed. Then she began to work on pulling the gag out of her mouth.  
  
--  
  
Lt. Richard Markson was not having a very good day. The Black Pearl had sailed the previous evening with Commodore Norrington aboard, leaving Captain Gillette in charge of Fort Charles. Markson didn't think much of Gillette. The man tended to underestimate his opponents too often. Since the loss of the Defender last year, Gillette had been assigned mainly to administrative duties in the fort. Markson fervently hoped that Gillette would be put in command of the new ship currently being built up in the Baltimore area so that he'd be out of the fort and out of Markson's hair. If Markson had been in charge, he'd have ordered the Dauntless to sea. Not to head to Tortuga - that would violate the instructions left by the kidnappers. But he'd have her cruise the Jamaican coastline, stopping and searching any and all ships in the vicinity. Expecting this Reynard the Fox to sail out of Port Royal harbor with the four kidnapped women aboard was ludicrous. He'd have to be a complete idiot to do that. If Markson had planned such a crime, he'd have a small smuggler's vessel hidden in a small cove. Or perhaps a fishing boat. Searching all the large ships in port was a waste of time. Still, orders were orders. He signaled to his troop. Two more ships to go.  
  
-- 


	6. Chapter 6

Revenge of the Fox Chapter 6  
  
Norrington stood at the helm of the Black Pearl. He hated to admit it, but the ship was a honey to sail. She was much more responsive than the Dauntless. Jack walked up the steps to the quarterdeck and stood beside him. "How do you like her, Commodore?"  
  
Norrington glanced at him. "Very much. She's very responsive."  
  
Jack grinned delightedly as if Norrington had complimented his only child. "Aye, she is. A real beauty." He launched into an elaborate story about some ship he'd chased, or had the other ship been chasing him? Norrington wasn't paying a great deal of attention. It was probably half fantasy anyway. He returned to his thoughts. He was worried sick about Antonia. He spent half the night tossing and turning, imaging her frightened or hurt and needing him. Toward dawn his imagination had turned even darker and more lurid.  
  
"Mate, you're not listening to me."  
  
Norrington's attention snapped back to the present. "I'm sorry, Captain. I've a lot on my mind."  
  
Jack regarded him. "It does no good to dwell on it. You can't help her by wallowing in worry and self pity." Norrington almost snarled at him, but bit back the impulse. Amusement lit in Jack's eyes. "Aye, you want to break me jaw, don't you?" He leaned closer. "Mate, the bastard's got my wife, my second mate and the wife of one of my closest friends. I don't know your lady very well, but I know that Gwen and Elizabeth are very fond of her. Don't think for a moment that I slept any better than you did last night."  
  
"And Will and Joseph?" asked Norrington dryly.  
  
"Joseph is all right. He's had a lot of practice with self-control. Will, however, is having a hard time. Look for yourself." Jack gestured toward the main deck. Will, Joseph and a few of the other crewmen not currently on duty were beginning a fencing lesson. "Will normally works with my crew when he's aboard. He's an excellent teacher."  
  
"He is," agreed Norrington. "He works with several of the younger officers in Port Royal. They've all improved immensely."  
  
"This lesson looks a bit different, however," Jack replied. "Watch."  
  
As Norrington watched, Will engaged a young sailor. The bout lasted about five seconds before the sailor's sword spun out of his hands to clatter onto the deck. A second crewmember did no better. When Will and Joseph squared off the bout lasted considerably longer, but the end was the same. Even at this distance, Norrington could see the tension in Will's shoulders. Jack spoke again. "See what I mean? He's so wound up he can hardly stand it. I better go down there before he actually kills someone." With a nod, Jack descended to the main deck. Norrington saw him clap Will affectionately on the shoulder and speak to him quietly. Then Jack drew his own sword and the two squared off. Will attacked with ferocity, with Jack coolly defending himself without attempting to go on the offensive. Indeed, Will's offensive was so fast it was all Jack could do to keep up.  
  
Sweat began to trickle down Will's face as he grimly fought on. He'd spent the previous twenty-four hours in a state of controlled panic and rage, which had built and intensified during a long, sleepless night. When one of the sailors had asked if he was going to teach this morning, he'd leapt at the chance to do something, anything that would occupy his mind. However, the exercise hadn't had the effect he'd expected. He'd nearly run his first opponent through before remembering that it was supposed to be a friendly lesson. Fighting with Joseph had been a little better, but not enough.  
  
Little by little though, the weariness of his muscles was unlocking the frozen state of his brain. Fighting with Jack required a great deal of concentration. He was too good a swordsman to take for granted. Will could feel himself beginning to relax, to start to enjoy the contest. The red, bloodlust haze that had hovered before his eyes began to recede. He blinked and stepped back, disengaging. The sun was actually shining. He hadn't noticed that before.  
  
Jack grinned at him, flashing his gold teeth. "Feeling better?"  
  
Will smiled a little sheepishly. "Yes, thank you. I needed that."  
  
Jack sheathed his sword. "Good. Don't kill any of my men, savvy? We may need them all before we're done." He clapped Will on the shoulder again and walked off.  
  
Will sheathed his sword, wiped the sweat off his forehead and looked at the men watching him. "All right, Mike and Davy, why don't you two come up here? I think I'll just coach for a while."  
  
--  
  
"Time to halt for the night," announced Reynard, dismounting. "Bert, you make a fire. Smitty, you take care of the horses." He walked over to Gwen, put his hands on her waist and swung her out of the saddle. When he released her, she staggered to the side and sat down heavily against a tree. "Tired, my dear?" Reynard asked.  
  
"I haven't ridden in years," said Gwen dryly. "You needn't worry about me running away at the moment. I don't think I can walk."  
  
Reynard laughed and sat down beside her. "So, tell me what it's like to be married to Captain Jack Sparrow."  
  
Gwen looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Why do you want to know?"  
  
He laughed again. "Curiosity. A way to kill time."  
  
"You said you used to know him. How long ago was it?  
  
Reynard looked amused. "We were shipmates many years ago, back when he first became Captain of the Black Pearl. When he was promoted over the heads of some of the older and more experienced officers it caused quite a stir."  
  
"I'm sure it did."  
  
"My brother was first mate then. He was furious."  
  
"Your brother.?"  
  
"Why Barbossa, of course. Surely you've heard tales of Captain Barbossa."  
  
Gwen started. "I have indeed. I had no idea that he was your brother."  
  
Reynard shrugged. "I was much younger; ten years or more. I was just a common pirate in those days. Moved from ship to ship, governed by greed."  
  
Gwen smiled sweetly. "Haven't changed much, have you?"  
  
There was a flash of anger in Reynard's dark eyes. "Oh, but I have, Mrs. Sparrow, I have. I've learned the value of patience and planning. How to forgo the pleasure of the moment for the larger reward. Take my brother for instance. A lesser man might have left the ship in anger, but not he. Slowly over the course of three years he built up a façade. He convinced Jack he could be trusted, and he slowly and carefully chose new crewmembers who would be loyal to him, rather than their upstart Captain. When the time came, he was ready. When the mutiny happened, there were only a few who objected. And they were taken care of."  
  
"Like Bootstrap Bill?"  
  
"Ah, Bootstrap. He was an interesting one. He pretended to go along in order to save his own skin, but he didn't have the patience to see it through. He lost his temper one day and let slip that his sympathies were with Jack. Stupid impatient fool. If he'd kept his peace until the opportune moment it might have been different. I understand Bootstrap's son is just like him. Stupid, impatient and foolishly loyal."  
  
"Is loyalty such a foolish virtue?"  
  
"It can be, my dear. It can be."  
  
"How is it that you escaped the curse?"  
  
Reynard leaned back against the tree. "I wasn't on the ship at that time. I'd signed onto another pirate ship a few months before."  
  
"Didn't you know what Barbossa was planning? Why weren't you there to support him?"  
  
Reynard grinned. "As I said, my dear, loyalty can be foolish. Let's just say I was hedging my bets. I wasn't at all sure that Barbossa could succeed, and I didn't want to be around if he failed."  
  
"If you aren't interested in loyalty, why do you want to revenge yourself against Jack, Will and Commodore Norrington?"  
  
"Oh, part of it is a feeling of duty, I suppose. The man was my brother and he taught me the value of planning. I feel I owe him the satisfaction of seeing his murderer get what he deserves. Part of it is the thrill of the contest. Jack Sparrow is the trickiest pirate in the Caribbean. I want to prove I'm even more clever."  
  
"Jack is the one who shot Barbossa. Why drag Will and Norrington into it?"  
  
"Sparrow couldn't have done it alone. Without Turner and Norrington he'd still be marooned on that little island. Norrington is also the one who hung the rest of my brother's crew, the men who were loyal to Barbossa. Besides, my dear, it makes for a more interesting plan. I find it amusing to send them chasing all over the place after me. I left a note telling them to go to Tortuga."  
  
"So where are you taking me?"  
  
"Not to Tortuga, luv."  
  
-- 


	7. Chapter 7

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 7  
  
Markson trudged dispiritedly along the waterfront back toward the fort, followed by his troop. Not only had they not found a blessed thing, but he'd had to listen to several irate Captains complaining about the intrusion. Dusk was starting to fall as they walked along, and the nightlife along the waterfront was starting to wake up. Lantern light blazed from the windows of several taverns, and a group of streetwalkers loitered nearby, some of them calling invitations to his men. He was about to pass by, when his eye was caught by one of the women. She was a hard looking woman with brassy blond hair, obviously past her first youth. But there was something familiar about her. It came to him in a flash, and he went up to her quickly, grasping her by the arm and turning her to face him.  
  
"My, my, soldier. No need to be rough," she purred, arching her back and thrusting her bosom out. "If you're lookin' for some sport tonight, I'm your girl."  
  
Markson looked her up and down, noting the green brocade dress the color of pine needles trimmed with gold braid. "Where did you get this dress," he demanded.  
  
She pouted. "Do you like it, gov'na? It's new." She ran her hand down her body and tossed her hair back.  
  
Markson gave her arm a little shake. "Tell me where you got it!"  
  
"Hey," she complained. "If ye must know, I got it from Madame Martine at the Satin Dove."  
  
Markson released her arm without a word, leaving the woman staring angrily after him. "Follow me," he snapped at his men, and strode back down the street toward the brothel the woman had mentioned. It was only a short distance away. "Wait here," he rapped out as he opened the door and walked in. He found himself in a parlor of sorts. It was dingy and ill lit, with tasteless red satin curtains covering the dirty windows and several shabby couches scattered around. A few scantily clad women looked up at his abrupt entrance. "I'm looking for Madame Martine," he announced.  
  
"I'm Madame Martine," cooed a voice from the staircase. A tall dark haired woman descended the stairs, dressed in a revealing black gown. As she drew closer he could see that despite the quantity of make up she was wearing, her features were hard and her eyes cold. "Can I help you, Lieutenant? Perhaps you'd care to make an appointment with one of my lovely young girls?"  
  
He looked at her coldly. "I'm not here to sample the wares, Madame. I would like to speak to you in private."  
  
Her face grew even harder. "And if I refuse?"  
  
"Then I will have to escort you to the fort and have our conversation there."  
  
Her eyes narrowed. Through the window she could see the troop of soldiers outside her door. "Very well then, follow me." She led the way up the stairs to a small room, dominated by a large iron bedstead. "What do you want?"  
  
Markson leaned against the door and folded his arms. "I saw a prostitute outside wearing a green brocade dress that she told me she got from you. Where did you get it from?"  
  
Madame Martine tossed her head. "Are green dresses so unusual that you need to burst in here to ask about a whore's wardrobe?"  
  
"Don't play with me, Madame. The last time I saw that dress it was being worn by Mrs. Jack Sparrow at the Governor's house, less than an hour before she disappeared. Where did you get that dress!"  
  
She looked at him in alarm. "I know nothing about that. The soldiers have already searched this house. There are no kidnapped women here! I run a clean business."  
  
Markson was implacable. "The dress, Madame."  
  
She bit her lip and looked away. "A man came in here several days ago. He wanted to rent one of the rooms for several hours. He came with several men about midday yesterday. They left a few hours after nightfall. Just before they left, he gave me four ladies gowns and told me to dispose of them. I couldn't see any reason to discard perfectly good gowns, so I gave three of them to some of my working girls. The forth one was torn."  
  
"Torn?" Markson felt a sudden chill. "In what way?"  
  
She shrugged. "It looked as though strips had been torn from the skirt."  
  
"Show me the room they rented," he demanded.  
  
She led the way down the hall to the last room. "They wanted their privacy. This room is closest to the back door. I usually post a guard here as you can see. When the men were here, however, they used their own guard." She opened the door and stepped inside.  
  
Markson followed her into the room. It was essentially identical to the other one they'd been in. Nothing was here really but a bed with a tawdry satin coverlet. He looked under the bed. Nothing there except a chamber pot. As he was straightening up, however, his eye was caught by a glint of white. Bending again, he saw a narrow strip of white satin tied around the leg of the bed. Holding it up he asked "Does this look like it had been torn from the dress you mentioned?"  
  
Madame Martine nodded. "Yes. The forth dress was white satin. It looked like a wedding gown."  
  
Markson smiled coldly. "It was Antonia Swann's wedding gown. I want you to tell me everything you can about these men. Every last detail. If I find out you've held anything back, I'll have you thrown into prison at the fort for the rest of your days."  
  
She looked frightened. "You can't do that!"  
  
"Madame," he said, "we're discussing the kidnapping of the Governor's daughter, the Commodore's fiancée, and the wife and second mate of one of the more powerful privateer captains in the Caribbean. You'd be surprised what I can do. Start talking."  
  
--  
  
From the sounds she heard, Elizabeth surmised that the two men on this small boat were tying up for the night. "Better get her outa the hold," one voice said.  
  
"Why," complained the second voice.  
  
"She's supposed ta arrive in good shape," was the answer. "We're gonna have ta feed 'er."  
  
Elizabeth pushed the gag back into her mouth and waited. A moment later a trap door was opened and rough hands reached in to grasp her and haul her out onto the deck of the boat. The man who held her spoke. "I'm gonna remove yer gag. Don't try ta scream." He cut the fabric and the gag fell away.  
  
"May I have some water, please," Elizabeth asked. He handed her a leather flask. The water was musty and tasted slightly of the leather container, but she drank it down thirstily. "Thank you."  
  
"We're stoppin' 'ere for the night," he said gruffly. "There ain't no one around fer miles, so there's no point in makin' a fuss. Do as yer told and we won't 'urt ye."  
  
"Where are you taking me?" Elizabeth asked.  
  
"Ta meet the ship," he answered.  
  
"Why me? And where are the other women?"  
  
"I dunno," he answered. "I got paid to bring ye ta the Vixen. That's all I know."  
  
"The Vixen?"  
  
"That's the Fox's ship. Ye'll see it tomorrow if all goes well." 


	8. Chapter 8

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 8  
  
The wagon finally stopped. Antonia breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't think there was a spot left on her body that wasn't bruised from the jolting. She and Annamaria had had a whispered conversation for a while, but had fallen silent long since. From the cracks in the planks over their heads she could tell that it was now full dark.  
  
"We're 'ere," said a rough voice. "Go see if the ship is waiting."  
  
Antonia listened to the sounds of a man getting off the wagon and walking off. He returned a few minutes later. "It's 'ere. They're waitin' fer us."  
  
"Good," the first man grunted. Let's get the women outa the wagon."  
  
Antonia and Annamaria exchanged a quick anxious glance as the men began to remove the planks that made up the false bottom of the wagon. When the planks had been removed, the men took their arms and pulled them out of the wagon. The women looked around. They were in a small clearing. Not far away through the trees, they could see the glint of moonlight on the water. "This way," said one of the men in a surly tone. Holding them by the arm, the women were ushered down a path toward the water.  
  
"Smuggler," commented Annamaria under her breath at the sight of the small, low to the water sloop that waited in the small cove. Antonia shot her a quick look.  
  
The crew of the smuggler waited silently. When the two men went up to them one of them merely held out his hand. The man holding Annamaria's arm dropped a pouch into it. "There's the agreed on sum," he said. "Passage fer the two of us plus the wenches."  
  
The man merely nodded and pocketed the pouch. "Bring 'em aboard." The two women were thrust forward. When a shaft of moonlight fell on Annamaria's face, the smuggler paused. Reaching out he took her chin and held her face steady in the moonlight. "Ye crew on the Pearl, do ye not?"  
  
"Aye," she answered. For a moment she held her breath, hoping that this was perhaps an ally. But the man just shrugged and turned away.  
  
"There's a compartment in the hold you can lock them up in," he said conversationally, leading the way. Within minutes the women found themselves in a small compartment, about six feet square. The door shut behind them, and they heard the snick of a lock.  
  
--  
  
Joseph quietly and calmly went about his duties aboard the Black Pearl as if nothing had happened. He was aware that the other men aboard were eyeing him warily, wondering if he was going to explode as Will had nearly done that morning during the fencing lesson. Not much chance of that. He felt as though a thin film of ice separated him from the rest of the world. They were doing all that could be done, headed for Tortuga at top speed. When they caught up with the kidnapper, Joseph was prepared to do whatever was necessary to free the women. Until then, there was no point in fretting. Don't bleed for the victim. It was advice told to him many years ago, the first time he'd witnessed another slave being brutalized. If you can change things, then do it. If you cannot, then harden your heart. Stewing over circumstances you cannot change helps no one. Joseph went below and found his old hammock in the crew's quarters. He would not sleep in Annamaria's cabin alone. Settling himself down, he closed his weary eyes. No, he would not bleed for Annamaria in his thoughts. Not yet. There would be time enough to bleed when the kidnappers were found. Only then, if Joseph had anything to say about it, the kidnappers would be the ones doing the bleeding.  
  
--  
  
Lieutenant Markson stood at attention before the desk in Commodore Norrington's office in Fort Charles. Captain Gillette sat comfortably in the Commodore's chair. "At ease, Lieutenant," Gillette said. "You have something to report?"  
  
"Aye, sir," Markson said crisply. He went on to elaborate the discoveries of the night before.  
  
When he'd finished, Gillette was silent for a moment, fingering the strip of white satin Markson had produced as evidence of his tale. "So you say the proprietor of the establishment overheard them discussing a fishing boat"  
  
"Aye, sir," Markson confirmed. "And also that she heard two separate carts departing from her back door in two different directions. It is my belief that the women were separated and moved out of Port Royal in different ways."  
  
"You've come to this conclusion on the evidence given by a prostitute?" Gillette sneered with gentlemanly restraint.  
  
Markson gritted his teeth as unobtrusively as he could. "A fishing boat has been reported stolen in that same general area of the waterfront, sir. It is possible that this is the one in question. The harbormaster reports that a small fishing boat similar to the one that was stolen sailed at first light the morning following the abduction. It traveled east along the coastline. I request permission to sail along the coastline to the east and search for a place such a boat might have rendezvoused with a larger craft."  
  
Gillette raised his eyebrow. "You're requesting permission to use the Dauntless, I presume?"  
  
Markson replied, "The Dauntless is the only Navy ship currently in harbor, sir."  
  
Gillette smiled patronizingly. "My dear Lieutenant. If you will recall, two years past you were second in command aboard the Dauntless, and when the Commodore was injured, you were swept aside by a pirate captain, of all people, who usurped your command. And you wish me to put you in charge of the Dauntless again? I cannot imagine what you would do with her this time."  
  
Markson determinedly remained silent. Discretion was, after all, the better part of valor. Throttling a superior officer was not generally well thought of in the military, however much he might deserve it. He manfully bit back his first impulse, which was to remind Gillette that he'd been glad enough to see that particular pirate captain last year after the Defender went down. In fact, had Gillette not been so cocksure of himself, he might have had the Commodore roused when the Spanish sail was sighted, rather than waiting until the situation was tactically lost. Would it have made any difference to the outcome? Possibly. Possibly not.  
  
"No," Gillette went on, "I cannot condone your use of the Dauntless. However I do give you permission to impress a private vessel into service temporarily to take you and your troop up the coast. I leave it to you to decide which one. Good day, Lieutenant."  
  
Markson saluted and walked out. Damned bastard. Now he would have the pleasure of informing some hapless merchant captain that the Royal Navy was commandeering his ship for an unspecified period of time, while a navy vessel sat idle in port. Damn it to hell.  
  
--  
  
Gwen woke to the sounds of her three captors moving around the campsite. Stretching, she suppressed a groan as her muscles protested. Getting back on that wretched horse was going to be torture. She pushed herself into a sitting position, staring distastefully at the rope looped through the binding on her wrists. The other end was fastened to a tree. A useless precaution. She had been serious last night when she said she could scarcely walk. Running away would be an impossibility.  
  
Reyard looked over at her. "Good morning, Mrs. Sparrow."  
  
Gwen attempted to push her hair back with her bound hands. "Would you be so kind as to release me for a few moments? I would very much like to wash my face."  
  
Reynard raised his eyebrows. "But of course, Mrs. Sparrow. There is a small stream a few steps to your right, should you desire a few moments of privacy. Don't try to escape though, sweetheart."  
  
Gwen nodded and waited while he undid the ropes. Gritting her teeth against the shrieking muscles in her legs, she walked as steadily as she could to the stream. As she did her best to work the tangles out of her hair with her fingers, she thought back on the conversation she'd had with Reynard the night before. She'd done her best to keep the talk focused on him, rather than her or Jack. For the most part she'd succeeded. Reynard seemed pleased to talk about himself, to brag really. She wondered how much longer she could keep this up. Idly she rubbed the third finger on her left hand. Her wedding ring was gone - Reynard had taken their jewelry from them. She remembered the day Jack had placed that ring on her finger. He trusted her and he believed in her. She couldn't let him down. She couldn't betray him. Sighing, she twisted her hair into a long plait and let it hang down her back, then she pulled a piece of white satin out of her bodice and attached it to a bush. She stood and walked back to the campsite.  
  
Reynard walked over to her with ropes in hand. She looked at them with disgust. "Is that really necessary? After all, you're leading my horse. Where could I go?"  
  
He looked at her for a moment with narrowed eyes. "All right, Mrs. Sparrow. We'll forgo the ropes for the moment. Mind that you behave."  
  
Gwen looked at him coldly. "I'm hardly a witless child, sir. I'm an intelligent woman and if I were going to escape I'd choose better circumstances than these."  
  
Reynard looked amused. "Point taken, my dear."  
  
He led her over to her horse and gave her a leg up into the saddle. Gwen suppressed a shudder as his hands lingered on her calf. "I would prefer, sir, that you kept your hands to yourself."  
  
He laughed and slipped his hand further up her skirt to caress her knee. "I'm greatly tempted to pull you back off that horse and find out what it is about you that has Jack Sparrow so enamored."  
  
Gwen made herself look at him disdainfully. "You would be no wiser. Yes, you could do as you chose. There would be no one to stop you. However, all you would have would be an unwilling woman. Do you think I'd give up my secrets to someone who'd force me like that?"  
  
Reynard smiled broadly and caressed her thigh. "So what would it take for you to tell me your secrets, luv? I swear I'd be a better catch than Sparrow. Especially since his days are numbered."  
  
"I hardly think this is the time or place to tell you." Gwen pointedly looked ahead toward the other two men who were already mounted and ready to go. "Shouldn't we be moving on?"  
  
Reynard laughed again and gave her knee one last caress before removing his hand from her skirt. "We'll continue this conversation later then, my dear." 


	9. Chapter 9

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 9  
  
The smuggler's craft slipped through the water nearly soundlessly. In their windowless prison, Antonia and Annamaria had no idea what time it might be. They'd managed to untie each other's wrists. While they were more comfortable, they weren't any closer to freeing themselves.  
  
"Annamaria?"  
  
"What is it?" Annamaria said a bit sullenly.  
  
"What is it about me that you dislike so much?"  
  
"What?" Annamaria turned and looked at Antonia in the flickering lamplight. "Why do you think I dislike you?"  
  
Antonia raised her eyebrow. "Don't you?"  
  
Flustered, Annamaria looked away. "Of course not. I just don't know you particularly well."  
  
"True enough," said Antonia. "But there's more to it than that, isn't there?"  
  
Annamaria looked back and saw Antonia gazing at her coolly. "You must be perfect for Norrington," she said spitefully. "You have that same cold stare."  
  
Antonia's expression didn't change. "Is that it? You think I'm cold?"  
  
"We have nothing in common. You're a nobleman's daughter. You grew up with money and privilege. I was born a slave, and a slave who was sold into prostitution whenever it so pleased my owner. Since then I've become a pirate. A thief. We have nothing in common, Miss Swann, and you should be glad of it."  
  
"It appears we have a great deal in common, Miss Simone." Antonia returned, her voice growing even colder. "We're both sitting here in a tiny room wearing nearly identical clothing. We're both at the mercy of some man we've never heard of before for reasons we don't know. And now that this Reynard the Fox, whomever he might be has gotten us out of Port Royal, it is getting less and less likely that we'll be found."  
  
Annamaria merely narrowed her eyes and glared at her. Antonia got up and started to pace the small space. "Do you remember when we first laid eyes on each other? If I recall correctly, you released me from a prison cell aboard the Aldonza. Do you remember? I was in that cell because my father, or at least, the man I'd THOUGHT was my father had sold me into marriage with a man I'd never seen before. And that man's relatives found me unworthy. So unworthy, in fact, that not only did they have me locked in that cell, but he beat me bloody." Antonia stopped pacing directly in front of Annamaria and looked her square in the eye. "I'm not suggesting that this makes us blood sisters, Anna, but I'd really appreciate it if you'd spare me your righteous indignation."  
  
"It doesn't make us blood sisters," said Annamaria flatly.  
  
Antonia stepped back a pace and folded her arms. "Why don't you dislike Elizabeth? She's a nobleman's daughter too."  
  
"Elizabeth has proven her worth to me. She'd do anything and everything necessary to save those she loves. She's brave, she's clever and she's kind."  
  
"Yes, she is," agreed Antonia. "And I suppose I'm none of those things?"  
  
"I have no way of knowing if you are."  
  
"And no way of knowing if I'm not." Antonia said bitterly. "According to you, I'm just a silly, rich chit with a pretty face who has managed to catch herself a Commodore in her matrimonial net, yes?" After a pause she continued. "Can we call a truce?"  
  
"A truce?"  
  
"Yes, a truce. However similar or dissimilar you feel our pasts have been, you have to admit that our futures are likely to be very similar. Or were you thinking that when they've taken whatever revenge they want on our men they'll let us go?"  
  
Annamaria was startled. "I didn't think you'd realize that."  
  
"I'm not an imbecile, Anna."  
  
"All right then. A truce, Miss Swann."  
  
"You can bloody damn well call me Tonia, or Antonia if you'd rather!"  
  
"Tonia, then."  
  
"What's likely to happen to us?"  
  
"Do you really want to know?"  
  
"There doesn't seem to be any point in wallowing in blissful ignorance."  
  
Annamaria shrugged. "We'll likely be sold. If you're lucky, you'll attract the eye of someone who wants to keep you to himself."  
  
"And if not?"  
  
"Then you'll attract the eye of someone who wants to sell you to as many men as he can for as much money as he can. You're not a virgin, are you?"  
  
"As a matter of fact I am. We were waiting for our wedding night."  
  
"You impetuous kids!" Annamaria said sarcastically.  
  
Antonia smiled wryly. "Go to hell, Anna."  
  
"Probably will. Anyway, when the time comes, tell Reynard that. You'll be worth more money that way, and you're less likely to be raped out of hand."  
  
"How does someone work something like that into casual conversation?" Antonia wondered.  
  
"This is the oddest conversation I've ever had," said Annamaria in bewilderment. "I'm discussing the ins and outs of being sold as a prostitute to a young, virgin noblewoman and she isn't having hysterics."  
  
"Funny old world, isn't it?"  
  
--  
  
Elizabeth lay in the hidden storage area, dozing in and out with the movement of the fishing boat. It was either sleep or have a claustrophobic fit. Sleeping seemed more constructive, so she was doing her best to stay relaxed and unconscious. Gradually, however, she became aware that the movement of the boat was different. The men were moving around above her more.  
  
"Drop the sail!"  
  
Were they stopping? Was it nightfall, or perhaps (please God) had they arrived at their destination? In a moment she felt the boat slow as oars were dipped into the water, braking the forward movement. Then a bump as the boat knocked into a larger object. Other voices called out and Elizabeth heard the sounds of rope being tightened into a knot. Impatiently she waited to be released, but it did not happen for several minutes. Finally the trap door opened and she was hauled out. They were tied up to a ship. Her captors cut the bonds on her hands to enable her to climb the rope ladder. As she reached the top a sailor reached out to help her over the rail. His eyes raked her speculatively, and she stepped away from him as soon as she could.  
  
Her captors reached the deck. "Yer the first," grunted the sailor. "No one else is 'ere yet."  
  
"Well, take the girl below then," said one of the men. With another grunt, the sailor took Elizabeth's arm and ushered her from the deck.  
  
"Is this the Vixen?" Elizabeth asked, tentatively.  
  
"Aye," said the sailor.  
  
"Is the Captain aboard?"  
  
"No."  
  
The sailor pulled Elizabeth down two steep flights of stairs until they were in the hold. Finally they arrived at the brig. There were four cells, all empty. The sailor shoved Elizabeth into the first one, then locked the door, took the keys and left.  
  
"Talkative chap," she muttered, and surveyed the cell. It was a bit more hospitable that most brigs she'd seen. There was a low, narrow cot in each cell covered by a rough blanket. A chamber pot stood in the corner. "Well, it's better than the storage hold, I suppose." 


	10. Chapter 10

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 10  
  
Elizabeth looked up at the sound of footsteps. A moment later, Reynard came into view, ushering Gwen with him.  
  
"Gwen!" she exclaimed.  
  
"Elizabeth!" Gwen said in relief. "You're all right!"  
  
Reynard opened the cell next to Elizabeth and gestured Gwen in with a courtly bow. "You'll dine with me tonight, Mrs. Sparrow, of course?"  
  
Gwen raised her eyebrow. "On the condition that I am given a comb and water for washing."  
  
"Strike a hard bargain, do you my dear?" Reynard said genially. "Very well then. Until later." He took her hand and kissed it, then locked the cell and departed.  
  
Elizabeth looked at Gwen with surprise. "Made a conquest, have you?"  
  
Gwen sat down on the cot and covered her eyes. "He's obsessed with Jack. And because he can't understand what Jack sees in me, he's determined to find out. It's nerve wracking to be honest." She stretched her back and groaned. "I never want to see another horse again."  
  
"You got here on horseback?"  
  
"Yes. How did you get here."  
  
"In the hold of a little fishing boat." Elizabeth shuddered. "If the trip had taken any longer I would have gone mad."  
  
"Any idea where we are?"  
  
"None, although since you came by land, we must still be in Jamaica."  
  
"Somewhere on the northeast coast, I think, although it's hard to be sure. He told me he'd left a note telling Jack, Will and the Commodore to go to Tortuga, but he isn't going to take us there."  
  
Elizabeth leaned against the bars separating her cell from Gwen's. "I wish I knew what his plans are."  
  
Gwen sighed. "I'm going to try and find out."  
  
--  
  
The Black Pearl dropped anchor in Totuga's harbor about an hour after sundown. Jack's orders had been clear. He, Will, Commodore Norrington and Joseph would go ashore and find the Salty Dog tavern. No one else was to leave the ship until they returned.  
  
"Do you know where the tavern is, Jack?" Will asked.  
  
"Aye, a seedy little place if I remember it correctly," Jack answered.  
  
"A seedy little tavern in Tortuga? I am all astonishment," said Norrington sarcastically.  
  
Jack looked over at him. "Ever been to Tortuga, Commodore?"  
  
"No, it isn't somewhere that the Royal Navy is particularly welcome."  
  
"Well, do us a favor and try to pipe down about the Navy and all. Just about every man you see will be a pirate. I'd as soon not have to keep you from getting your throat cut, savvy?"  
  
"Is this when you tell him not to do anything stupid?" Will asked sarcastically. "I've been waiting three years for you to say that to someone aside from me."  
  
Jack ignored him and continued cautioning Norrington. "So we're going to forget both your name and your title, James, since both of them are too well known."  
  
Norrington looked pained. "Must you address me by my Christian name, Sparrow?"  
  
Jack grinned cheerily. "Why, yes, I must."  
  
Will and Joseph exchanged amused glances, and pulled steadily at the oars until they reached the shore. There they stowed the oars and tied up the boat. "Off this way," said Jack gesturing away from the waterfront. "Stay close."  
  
The tavern was about a ten minute walk from where they'd left the boat. By the time they reached it, Norrington's jaw was tight. "I thought the waterfront area of Port Royal was bad," he muttered, glaring at a drunken pirate weaving down the street with his arm around a blowsy prostitute.  
  
"Hello darling!" gushed a dark haired woman with a heavily made up face, loitering in front of the tavern. "Have you some time to spend with me?"  
  
"Not today, luv," Jack said with a cheeky grin. He opened the door of the Salty Dog, stepped out of the way to let a pair of brawling men stumble out, and strolled into the noisy, ill lit building as if it was a tea parlor. Will and Joseph fell in behind him without comment, and Norrington gritted his teeth and followed.  
  
Jack walked casually to the bar. "Rum for me and me confederates, lad," he said genially, dropping a few coins on the bar.  
  
"I'd prefer brandy," said Norrington under his breath.  
  
"Drink the rum and shut up," Jack replied. When the bartender came back with their drinks, he said quietly. "I was told I could find a man named Johnson here, lad. Me name is Captain Jack Sparrow."  
  
The lad looked startled for a moment. He mumbled something unintelligible and disappeared into the back room. Several minutes later he came out and beckoned to Jack. "Back 'ere, sir," he said. Jack strolled toward the back room. Will, Joseph and Norrington exchanged quick, silent glances, and followed.  
  
The back room was set up as a parlor of sorts. It was dingy, ill lit and not terribly clean. A large man in a shabby brown coat sat in a large chair, a tankard of ale in his hand. Jack swaggered forward and settled in a chair nearby. Joseph moved to stand behind Jack's chair, arms folded. Will leaned against the wall midway between the two men, and Norrington stood by the door. Jack leaned back comfortably, and toasted his silent host. "Mr. Johnson, I imagine?"  
  
"Aye,' replied the man tersely. "What's it to ye?"  
  
Jack smiled, a glint of gold teeth below eyes that remained dark and watchful. "I was told by an old friend of mine that I should look you up. His name is Reynard? Reynard the Fox?"  
  
Johnson grunted. "And yer Jack Sparrow?"  
  
"Captain Jack Sparrow, yes. You've some instructions for me?"  
  
"Aye." Johnson pulled out a grubby sheet of paper and handed it over.  
  
Jack read it quickly and looked up. "Nothing else?" The man merely looked at him impassively. "All right then, mate. Tell me how long ago Reynard gave you this letter."  
  
"I've told ye all I was bid to tell ye."  
  
"I'm sure ye have," said Jack gently. Casually he pulled out a knife and started to use it to pare his fingernails. "But ye see, Johnson, I don't have all the information I want yet, and I'm reluctant to go without learning everything I can." He looked mockingly at Johnson. "Ye do understand, now, do ye mate?" Johnson looked uneasily at Joseph standing impassively behind Jack; at Will leaning casually against the wall and at Norrington, who getting into the spirit of the thing, turned the key in the lock and began fingering his sword hilt. Jack smiled again, an evil, rougish smile that turned Johnson's blood to ice. "So tell me, mate, when did you receive this letter?"  
  
-- 


	11. Chapter 11

Revenge of the Fox Chapter 11  
  
When footsteps sounded outside the locked door, Annamaria and Antonia exchanged a quick look. The lock clicked as it was released, and the door opened. The captain of the smuggler's ship stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He carried a basket with some bread and a leather flask, which he handed to Antonia.  
  
"So," he said quietly. "Why might a crewmember of a privateer ship be brought under guard onto my boat?"  
  
Annamaria gestured toward Antonia. "This is Miss Antonia Swann. She is the fiancée of Commodore Norrington of Fort Charles. She, myself and two other women were kidnapped from Miss Swann wedding. The other two women are Mrs. Turner, the Governor's daughter, and Mrs. Jack Sparrow, wife of Captain Sparrow of the Black Pearl. As yet, we do not know why we were kidnapped." The captain merely gazed at her, face impassive. Annamaria went on. "Can you tell us where we are going?"  
  
"A small cove a few miles this side of Port Antonio. We are to rendezvous with a ship called the Vixen. I expect to be there later tonight."  
  
"Please, sir," said Antonia, "can you help us? Between my uncle the Governor, my fiancé and Captain Sparrow, any reward you ask for will be yours."  
  
Annamaria spoke up. "Can you tell me your name, Captain?"  
  
"Hale," he said shortly.  
  
"Captain Hale, I beg of you," Annamaria said. "Help us."  
  
Captain Hale looked at them for a moment and slowly shook his head. "I cannot betray the Fox beneath his very nose."  
  
Antonia moved closer and put her hand on his arm. "Would you do it if you were not beneath his nose?" Hale said nothing, merely looking down at her. She tried again. "After you have delivered us to the Vixen, would you be willing to go to Port Royal and tell them there where we are?" After another pause, she continued. "The friendship of the Governor, Commodore Norrington and Captain Jack Sparrow is worth a good deal, Captain, is it not?"  
  
"Captain Sparrow remembers his friends, Captain Hale," said Annamaria quietly.  
  
Hale looked at both women, then turned abruptly and left, locking the door behind him. Antonia took a hunk of bread out of the basket and handed it to Annamaria. "Do you think he might help us?"  
  
Annamaria took the bread. "It's hard to say. I hope so."  
  
--  
  
Gwen looked at the bundle of black velvet in her hands. "Well," she said, "Not only did he send down wash water and a comb, but he sent down a dress too."  
  
Elizabeth grinned at her. "So get to it, girl! You're going to let me use the water too, right?"  
  
Gwen smiled at her friend. "Certainly!" The water was pleasantly warm. Even if it was only a sponge bath, it felt good to be clean. When she was done, she pushed the small bucket against the bars of Elizabeth's cell and handed her the damp cloth. "There you go, enjoy yourself." While Elizabeth made use of the rest of the water, Gwen shook out the dress and slipped it over her head. She frowned at the gaping laces in the front. "I think it's too small."  
  
Elizabeth dropped the cloth back into the bucket. "No, it's just made to be worn with a corset, which you don't have."  
  
Gwen sighed. "I never thought I'd mourn the loss of a corset." She tightened the laces.  
  
"Here, let me," said Elizabeth, reaching through the bars. "Put your shoulders back and head up," she instructed, yanking ruthlessly on the laces. "Hold your breath." With her expert assistance, the gown was soon in place. Elizabeth knotted the laces and tucked the ends into the bodice. "There. You look stunning, Gwen. Black suits you."  
  
Gwen frowned again and smoothed the velvet of the skirt. "The neckline is far too low. I feel if I take a deep breath I'm going to come right out of it."  
  
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Then don't take a deep breath."  
  
"You're a lot of help." Gwen sat down on the cot and began to comb her hair. "I don't know what in the world I'm doing, Elizabeth. Reynard is probably going to try to seduce me, and I don't know what to do about it."  
  
"You're not planning on letting him, surely?"  
  
Gwen shuddered. "Heaven forbid! That is, assuming I have the option of saying 'no'."  
  
Elizabeth folded her arms and leaned against the bars. "So the issue is, how can you keep him at arms length, yet still keep him thinking that you might give in, so that he'll talk to you about his plans."  
  
"That's right." Gwen sighed. "And also thinking that if I do give in, it will be worth the wait. Elizabeth, I'm not a seductress. I don't know how to go about this sort of thing."  
  
Elizabeth laughed. "Gwen, you've been living with Jack Sparrow for two years now. You must know something about it."  
  
Gwen wasn't amused. "Elizabeth, I'm serious. Reynard is expecting something extraordinary, and I'm just an ordinary woman."  
  
"Hmmmm. Tell me about your relationship with Jack. There must be something there you can use."  
  
"I don't know. With Jack it's not so much what we do, it's where."  
  
"What do you mean by that?"  
  
Gwen smiled. "You know him, Elizabeth. He's a creature of the wind and the sea. He likes nothing better than making love under the stars or in the sunshine. I think he knows a deserted beach on every island in the Caribbean! Not to mention aboard ship. The night he proposed to me, we made love right on the deck. And since then, well, let's just say he knows the watch schedule well enough to know when there'll be an opportune moment."  
  
Elizabeth was grinning from ear to ear. "My goodness! Sounds wonderful!"  
  
"So you see, Elizabeth, I don't have to do much of anything for Jack to feel, well, amorous. The wind does it for me."  
  
"The wind?"  
  
"Oh yes, the wind. The harder it blows the more he's interested. Whenever there's a storm, as soon as it's safe to leave the helm and come below, he's ready. I swear that he'd secretly like to make love on deck during a hurricane."  
  
Elizabeth was laughing. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh. I'm not making fun of you, I swear. It's just that it's so, so Jack! I can just picture him trying to work out how to do it without being washed overboard!"  
  
Despite herself, Gwen was laughing too. "Just don't suggest it to him! The last thing I need is for him to get it figured out! I'd as soon wait until the hurricane is over, thank you!"  
  
Bringing her laughter under control, Elizabeth said. "But seriously, what you need to do is convince Reynard that you're Anne Boleyn."  
  
"Anne Boleyn?"  
  
"Yes, do you remember your English history? She was the second wife of King Henry VIII. She refused to sleep with him without marriage, and she had him convinced that if he gave in to her demands it would be heaven on earth. So he dismantled the entire religious system of his kingdom, broke away from the Catholic church in Rome, divorced his first wife who was the aunt of one of the most powerful men in Europe, and married her."  
  
Gwen said dryly, "You do remember what happened to her, don't you?"  
  
"Yes, well, she kept him at arms length for seven years. Seven years, Gwen!"  
  
"And once they were married, it took him less than three years to trump up charges against her. They accused her of infidelity, treason and witchcraft - accusations that were obviously fabricated, and he had her executed. So you see, Elizabeth, she couldn't hold on to the illusion once he had her."  
  
"So don't let him have you."  
  
"That isn't particularly helpful." Gwen paced restlessly around the cell. "I did tell him that if he took me against my will, he'd have nothing but an unwilling woman."  
  
Elizabeth said, "See? That's just what you need to say. Keep him thinking that he's going to need to have your complete cooperation, or it's no good. You don't have to keep this up for seven years, Gwen. You can do it."  
  
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Reynard's first mate came into view. "Well," murmured Gwen. "We're about to find out."  
  
-- 


	12. Chapter 12

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 12  
  
Jack, Will, Joseph and Norrington left the tavern. "What was in the letter, Jack?" Will asked.  
  
"Save it for a moment, mate," muttered Jack. "Ah, there's a good place to talk."  
  
"There?" Norrington said incredulously, looking at the alehouse Jack indicated. It was the noisiest one of the street, and was obviously packed to the gills.  
  
"It's perfect," Jack said opening the door "No one will be able to hear a word we're saying."  
  
"Including us," said Will, but he followed Jack into the ear splitting cacophony. The place reeked of rum, stale beer and unwashed humans. Deftly Jack managed to weave his way through the crowd to a small table that was tucked underneath the staircase. A raised brow and an evil grin was all it took for the occupants of the table to suddenly decide it was time to take their leave. Joseph flagged down a waitress and commandeered four cups of rum, dropping a coin on her tray in payment. The four men sat down, Norrington suppressing the urge to wipe down the chair first with his handkerchief. Surprisingly, the noise was diminished in the little alcove.  
  
"You don't have to drink that," said Jack nodding at the cups on the table. "It's probably ghastly. We need the props is all. "Got to look like four mates out for a drink, eh?"  
  
"What was in the letter?" Will asked again.  
  
Jack pulled it out and handed it over. As Will scanned it, Jack said. "We've instructions to go to the Bahamas. Crooked Island to be precise. The letter includes a map and coordinates for a particular spot."  
  
"Do you think we'll find the women there?" Will asked.  
  
Jack sighed. "No, Will, I do not."  
  
"It seems to me," said Norrington, "that this Reynard is sending us on a wild goose chase."  
  
"Aye, I agree with you," Jack said.  
  
Joseph spoke up. "Johnson was given that letter more than two weeks back. He called Reynard 'Captain'. That must mean that he has a ship. If there was a ship anchored in Tortuga two weeks ago, then someone remembers it."  
  
"Indeed." Jack looked at Will and Norrington. "You two return to the Pearl. Tell Gibbs that we'll be sailing with the morning tide. Joseph and I have some business to take care of."  
  
"Where are you going?" Will asked.  
  
"A brothel," said Jack, matter of factly.  
  
Norrington's eyes narrowed to slits. "Your wife is in the hands of a villian and you're going whoring?" he hissed.  
  
Jack's sudden stillness was chilling, and the other occupants at the tiny table immediately felt frozen. "Your outrage on my lady's behalf does you credit, James, but your lack of faith in me is rather disappointing. Very well then, I'll explain." Jack spoke slowly and carefully, eyes cold. "Sailors like to drink, brag and tumble women, not necessarily in that order. If Reynard has a ship, then he has a crew. If they were in Tortuga, then his crew got drunk, found wenches to spend time with, and no doubt babbled far too much of their Captain's business. Joseph and I will find some of these girls, and see what they have to say."  
  
"They'll talk to you?" Will asked.  
  
"They'll talk to my gold," said Jack, not taking his eyes from Norrington.  
  
Norrington cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Sparrow. If I'd thought for even a moment I'd have realized what you were doing. My comment was inexcusable. I beg your pardon."  
  
Jack nodded slowly. "Accepted." Turning to Joseph he said, "Let's get going, mate." The two rose. "Don't do anything stupid, mate," he said to Will as they walked away.  
  
Will and Norrington regarded each other across the little table. Norrington absently took a sip from his cup, then choked and spit it back out. A hint of amusement lightened Will's expression. "Ghastly, eh?"  
  
Norrington coughed. "Very. I can't imagine how men drink this."  
  
Will shrugged. "I couldn't tell you. We'd best get back to the Pearl."  
  
"The crew won't be pleased to be denied a chance to go ashore, will they?"  
  
"They won't be too angry. I don't think you realize how fond they are of Gwen and Annamaria."  
  
Norrington frowned. "Doesn't the pirate code say something about if you fall behind you are left behind?"  
  
"It does. However the crew of the Pearl have found that maintaining loyalty to each other has profited them more than abandoning each other ever had." He smiled. "I believe they consider the code more like 'guidelines' than actual rules."  
  
-- 


	13. Chapter 13

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 13  
  
"Would you like a glass of wine, my dear?" Reynard asked as he seated Gwen at the table in his cabin.  
  
"Yes, thank you," said Gwen, looking around. The Vixen was a smaller ship than the Pearl, and the Captain's cabin was correspondingly smaller as well. Her attention was caught by an elaborate coat of arms painted on the wall between the aft windows. "The Barbossa coat of arms?" Gwen asked dryly.  
  
"Not at all," replied Reynard, handing her a glass. "Those are the arms of the ship's previous owner. I haven't had the leisure to have them painted over yet." He sat, and signaled to the cabin boy to serve. As the boy ladled soup into their bowls, Reynard went on. "The Barbossas come from fairly common stock, I'm afraid. Not like your friends the Swanns."  
  
Gwen tasted the soup. Some sort of shellfish, she decided. "That is true, Elizabeth Turner and Antonia Swann are both from noble backgrounds."  
  
"And Commodore Norrington? Tell me about him."  
  
"If you wish to know about the Commodore, why do you not ask his fiancée?"  
  
Reynard shrugged. "She's not here yet, so I'm asking you."  
  
"Very well. He's also from a noble background. Second or third son of a baronet, I believe. His eldest brother holds the family estate somewhere in England. Somerset, maybe? His father's brother was a Captain in the Royal Navy, and James was under his patronage for a while. He came to the Caribbean more than ten years ago, and was promoted to Commodore three years ago."  
  
"Are you on friendly terms with him?"  
  
Gwen answered cautiously, puzzled by the question. "Yes, you could say so. I frequently see him when we are in Port Royal, usually in company with Miss Swann."  
  
"Is Jack Sparrow on friendly terms with him?"  
  
Gwen answered, even more cautiously. "I believe they have a sincere respect and regard for each others abilities, although they generally don't agree on a personal level."  
  
Reynard raised his brows. "My source tells me that Jack delights in irritating the Commodore."  
  
"Their personalities tend to clash," Gwen allowed.  
  
"So, tell me about yourself, my dear."  
  
"There isn't much to tell," Gwen said. "My father was a merchant captain, the Jamaica Star. A pirate killed him two years ago. I met Captain Sparrow shortly afterward, and I have been with him since."  
  
"I'm very surprised, my dear, that you would become involved with a pirate when your father was murdered by one."  
  
"There are pirates and there are pirates," said Gwen. "Surely you know that."  
  
"Yes indeed. And Sparrow is one of the soft, spineless ones, is he not? Not to mention that he sold out the Brethren by turning privateer."  
  
Gwen's smile showed a hint of anger. "Yet he is more successful that you, is he not?" She gestured toward the coat of arms on the wall. "That paint appears fairly fresh, and yet it belonged to the ship's previous owner. You haven't had this ship very long, have you?"  
  
"No, madam, I have not," stated Reynard, a flash of temper in his own eyes. "But when I have killed Sparrow and taken the Pearl from him, I will be the most feared pirate in the Caribbean."  
  
"How are you planning on doing that?" Gwen asked sweetly.  
  
Reynard smiled broadly. "Oh, that is my little secret, cherie." He signaled to the cabin boy to serve the main course. Pork, it looked like.  
  
"What will become of us, Captain? Mrs. Turner, Miss Swan, Miss Simone and myself?"  
  
Reynard shrugged. "With your husbands and lovers dead, you will have no reason to return to Jamaica, will you not? I might ransom Mrs. Turner and Miss Swann back to the Governor, unless of course, I can get a better price selling them to those who deal in pretty girls."  
  
Gwen lifted a brow. "Is that to be my fate as well? A brothel in some waterfront city?"  
  
"Perhaps," he replied. "Perhaps not. That depends on you, my dear." He picked up her hand and kissed it. "You might do better to be kinder to me, my dear. I might be persuaded to be kinder to you."  
  
Gwen suppressed her first instinct to pull her hand away and left it in his grasp. "Throw my lot in with you? Turn my back on my husband?"  
  
"Loyalty can be a misplaced virtue," he reminded her. "And you will be a widow soon enough."  
  
This time Gwen did pull her hand away. "You've far from convinced me that you have any hope of succeeding in your plan to do away with my husband. Why should I ally myself with a man who might not succeed? Did you not turn from your own brother for a similar reason? Why should I turn from Jack?"  
  
Reynard set down his fork and signaled for the cabin boy to remove the dishes. The boy set a brandy decanter on the table and left. Reynard poured two glasses and offered one to Gwen. "I haven't any sherry, my dear. I hope you will not mind."  
  
Gwen accepted the glass. "Not at all. I have no objection to brandy."  
  
Reynard sat back with his glass. "To answer your question, my dear, you should turn away from Sparrow because he is going to lose. I will kill him because he is weak. He lives by his wits, not his might. I am as clever as he, cherie, and I am stronger. He cannot win."  
  
Gwen sipped her brandy. "Why me? Why are you not interested in the other three women? All of them are more attractive than I am."  
  
"I am interested in you, Gwen, because Sparrow is. Oh, I grant you, they others are beautiful. Elizabeth Turner is known to be extremely clever, and Annamaria Simone is known to be very strong willed. But none of them managed to capture Jack Sparrow. Only you have done that. It intrigues me." He moved his chair closer and ran a finger over the tops of her breasts, revealed by the low cut gown. "And you are not unattractive, cherie. Not at all. I would not be at all displeased to find you in my bed at the end of the day."  
  
Gwen forced herself to breathe normally. "What does that mean? Are you asking me to become your mistress?"  
  
"Aye," he whispered. Leaning closer he bent to kiss her.  
  
Gwen jerked her head aside, preventing him. "I have terms which must be met before I can agree to such a thing."  
  
Reynard leaned back again. "Terms?"  
  
"The other three women must be given their freedom. They must be returned to Port Royal unharmed and unmolested. I'll not come to you willingly until this is done."  
  
Anger flashed in Reynard's eyes again. "You are not in any position to dictate terms to me, my sweet." He jerked her to her feet. "You are prisoner aboard my ship and your life belongs to me. If I want you, I'll have you."  
  
Gwen narrowed her eyes. "Will that satisfy you, do you think?"  
  
Reynard grinned evilly. "Let's find out."  
  
He swept her into his arms and dropped her unceremoniously onto the bunk. Gwen closed her eyes and willed her body not to react. Don't fight him, she thought. He wants you to. Resistance will only excite him. Be cold. Freeze him out. She kept her eyes closed as she felt his weight on her, felt his hands yank the laces of her bodice loose, felt his mouth hard on her own. Do nothing. Do not react. It was working. A moment later he raised his head to look at her. She opened her eyes, and let all the icy distain she felt show in them.  
  
"I've seen more life in a half dead whore," he said sarcastically. "You've made your point, my dear. I can only assume you aren't so cold with Sparrow."  
  
Gwen lifted a brow. "No, he has never accused me of coldness. He finds me quite.passionate enough for his taste."  
  
"Does he?"  
  
"Jack Sparrow is a man who greatly enjoys his physical pleasures, Captain Reynard." Gwen spoke with the lowest, most seductive voice she could manage. "He would never have married me if I didn't suit him perfectly in that regard."  
  
He slid off of her to sit on the edge of the bunk. "And I suppose you decline to show me this.passion until your terms are met?"  
  
Gwen smiled slightly. "Perhaps you are as clever as you say you are." She pushed herself up to a sitting position and started lacing her bodice again.  
  
"And if I find you don't suit me?"  
  
Gwen smiled seductively. "Oh I think you'll find I do." She trailed her fingers down his chest and over his thigh. "I think you'll find I suit you very well." He leaned to kiss her, and she ducked away again. "When my terms are met, Captain. Not before."  
  
"Very well then." Reynard stood up. "You won't be returning to the brig, madam. You'll be sleeping in a cabin instead. While we're still in port you'll be locked in, but once we put to sea you'll have freedom of the ship. Your behavior during this time will help me determine if I will accept your terms once Sparrow is dead. Your friends will suffer if you make any attempt to escape or hinder me in any way, is that clear?"  
  
"Very clear, sir."  
  
Ten minutes later, Gwen was alone in the tiny cabin she'd been shown to. She sank unto the bunk, exhausted. For the first time since she'd been taken from the Governor's house she was well and truly alone. Since there was no one to see her, no one to know if she dropped her guard, she fell to weeping. Tomorrow she would be strong again, she promised herself. Tomorrow. But for tonight, she allowed herself to miss Jack for the first time since she'd been torn from him. To think of his wolfish grin, his steady hands, the absurd collection of beads in his hair and his kohl rimmed eyes. To remember the feel of his touch, the warmth of his arms. To wonder if she'd ever see him again.  
  
-- 


	14. Chapter 14

Revenge of the Fox Chapter 14  
  
The call of a watchman warned the women that their journey on the smuggler's ship was at an end. The forward movement of the ship slowed, then stopped as the smaller craft was tied up to the larger one. Two taciturn sailors came for them not long afterward, escorting them up on deck, and then up the rope ladder to the larger ship. Reynard was waiting for them. "Ah, Miss Swann and Miss Simone. I trust you had a pleasant journey?"  
  
"Tolerably so," Antonia lied politely.  
  
"Excellent," he smiled. "Then please allow me to have you escorted below." As they were led from the deck, Annamaria glanced back at the smuggler's ship. Captain Hale was standing on deck, staring after them.  
  
--  
  
It was near dawn when the small boat containing Jack and Joseph reached the Black Pearl. Will, Norrington and Gibbs were waiting. Jack addressed Gibbs first. "Are we ready to sail?"  
  
"Aye, Cap'n," he replied.  
  
"Good. Weigh anchor and get out of here. The Commodore and Mr. Turner told you the destination, aye?"  
  
"The Bahamas," Gibbs answered.  
  
"Aye. I'll be in my cabin. I'm sure these gentlemen, "he gestured to Will and Norrington, "would like a word with me. Then I'll need some sleep before I take the helm. Joseph is also excused from his duties until he is rested."  
  
No more was said until the four men were sitting at the table in the Captain's cabin. Jack rubbed his eyes. "I don't think I've ever been to so many whorehouses in the same night before in my life." Then he grinned. "Of course in the past whenever I went to a whorehouse I wasn't there just to talk!" Since no one in the room was in a particularly humorous mood, the joke didn't go over very well.  
  
Joseph spoke up. "It appears that Reynard has a ship called the Vixen. Apparently some young nobleman in England hired him on as first mate. Reynard put together the crew, and he chose men who were loyal to him, not to the nobleman. They mutinied at some point during the crossing, and Reynard took command of the ship, which he renamed. The original name was Fortune's Lady, or something similar."  
  
Will glanced at him. It was unusual for Joseph to speak up without being requested to. He tended to watch and listen instead.  
  
Jack leaned back in his chair and continued the story. "Before coming to Tortuga, Reynard apparently stopped at several of the islands in the Bahamas. Crooked Island, Cat Island, Eleuthera, San Andreas and New Providence were all visited. I have the uneasy suspicion that he's planning on sending us all over the place for the pure pleasure of seeing us chase all over the Caribbean for no apparent reason. I sincerely doubt that the women are on Crooked Island, but I don't know what other course of action to take at the moment. There is probably some sort of clue there on where we're supposed to go next. Possibly when we get there we will be able to find out some additional information, such as we found out here."  
  
Will spoke next. "Would it be faster to go to one of the other islands that Reynard visited rather than Crooked Island?"  
  
"It might," Jack replied. "The only issue is whether or not whatever we find on Crooked Island is vital to whatever we need to do to play this little game Reynard has cooked up."  
  
Norrington's voice was several degrees below freezing. "I dislike playing games."  
  
"I'm fond enough of games of my own making," Jack answered. "I'm not so fond being the butt of other men's games. As yet, however, I don't know enough about this one to figure out how to cheat at it."  
  
--  
  
When Gwen awoke, she realized that the ship was no longer anchored, but was at sea. Someone had been in the room while she slept, she noticed with a quick shiver. A small trunk was on the floor near the door, and the water in the washbasin was warm. After a quick examination of the contents of the trunk, she washed, then pulled out a gown. The dark blue linen dress wasn't low cut as the black velvet gown she'd been wearing and was a more suitable gown for daytime wear. The trunk, obviously some woman's luggage for a voyage, had everything necessary for a woman's toilette, so Gwen was able to dress her hair in her usual style, a braided chignon on the back of her head; simple, elegant and out of the way.  
  
Gwen tried the door and found it to be unlocked. Opening it, she ventured up to the main deck. Aside from a few sidelong glances, the sailors going about their business ignored her. She spotted Reynard at the helm, and ascended to the quarterdeck. "Good morning, Captain Reynard."  
  
He looked over at her. "Good morning, my dear. I trust you slept well?"  
  
"Yes, thank you." Gwen noted the position of the sun and the coastline to starboard. "We are traveling northeast toward the Windward Passage, then?"  
  
Reynard looked amused. "Quite right."  
  
Gwen smiled. "I've learned a thing or two after living aboard ship for two years. Since we're underway, I assume that Miss Swann and Miss Simone are now aboard?" At Reynard's consenting nod, she continued. "May I see them?"  
  
"You may, however I prefer you not speak with them alone." He gestured to one of the seamen nearby. "Stevens will accompany you."  
  
Gwen hid her dismay at the restriction, but smiled charmingly at Stevens. "Thank you, sir." She inclined her head at Reynard and turned to head below. It took only a few minutes to get to the brig, and she saw that the two cells opposite Elizabeth's were now occupied by Annamaria and Antonia.  
  
Elizabeth was the first to see her. "Gwen, thank God you're all right! I was so worried when you never came back down last night!"  
  
"I'm fine, Elizabeth. Captain Reynard has assigned me a cabin for the time being." She turned to Annamaria and Antonia. "Are you two all right? How did you get here?"  
  
Annamaria answered, glancing at Stevens, who leaned against the wall by the stairs and watched them unsmilingly. "Smuggler's ship. Why aren't you in the brig like us, Gwen?"  
  
Gwen smiled. This was going to be difficult with an audience. "Captain Reynard has taken a bit of a fancy to me, Anna, so I'll be staying on the next deck up."  
  
As expected, anger and disgust warred with disbelief in Annamaria's eyes. "In the Captain's cabin, then?"  
  
"Not at all," said Gwen, her voice growing cooler. "I have terms that must be met first, which the Captain is well aware of."  
  
"Terms?" Annamaria asked in a spiteful voice. "What sort of terms?"  
  
"Shiver me timbers, Anna, you look as witless as a parrot." Gwen said dryly. "Don't try to intimidate me, since you're in that cell and I'm not. I'm negotiating for your freedom; yours, Elizabeth's and Tonia's."  
  
"What about Jack?" Annamaria snapped.  
  
Gwen shrugged carelessly. "He is a bonny lad, isn't he? If Reynard's plan works, Jack will be dead. I have to look to my own future, you know."  
  
Antonia started to speak but Annamaria cut her off. "I'll handle this, Tonia." She turned to Gwen again and said nastily, "Any port in a storm, Gwen?"  
  
"By Davy Jones' locker, darling, I have to do what I can."  
  
"If you betray Jack Sparrow, I'll be waiting for you, so watch your back," said Annamaria menacingly.  
  
Gwen dismissed the threat with a flip of her hand. "Next watch, Anna, next watch." She looked briefly at Elizabeth and Antonia. "Ladies." With a mocking little curtsey, she turned and went up the stairs, followed by the silent Stevens.  
  
After a moment of silence, Anna's face relaxed and she sank down on her cot. "Thank God, thank God!"  
  
Antonia looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "What on earth are you talking about! I would never have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes! Who would have though that Gwen Sparrow could act like that!"  
  
Elizabeth broke in. "She WAS acting, Tonia. There was more to that then met the eye." She looked at Annamaria. "I understood some of that, but not all. Please translate for me."  
  
Annamaria smiled at Antonia. "Do you remember the older man in the Pearl's crew with the blue parrot?"  
  
Antonia looked confused, "I guess so, but what does that have to do with it?"  
  
Anna smiled again. "When she first started talking, I didn't understand what she was doing either, which is the reason for the comment about me being witless as a parrot."  
  
Elizabeth said, "Mr. Cotton is mute, so his parrot speaks for him. Unfortunately the parrot doesn't speak very clearly - it's almost like a code, really."  
  
Annamaria nodded. "'Shiver me timbers' means 'you missed something'. She was telling me that I was on the wrong track thinking she was betraying Jack. 'He's a bonny lad' is close to what the parrot says whenever Cotton thinks two people ought to get together. There Gwen meant that she was still committed to Jack, although she was pretending to consider becoming involved with Reynard. 'Any port in a storm' translates roughly to 'I've got what I want'. I was asking her if she truly was going to betray the Pearl. The reference to Davy Jones' locker means 'no'. My comment that I'd be waiting, meant just that - I'll be waiting to hear back from her on what we should do. Her reply 'next watch' meant she'd get back to me." Annamaria smiled at Antonia again. "So you see, Tonia, Gwen and I understood each other perfectly, and her guard thinks - and will no doubt report back to Reynard - that we said something completely different."  
  
"What did she mean about negotiating for our freedom," Antonia asked.  
  
Elizabeth answered that one. "It means that if this situation is truly beyond her control and she can't do anything to keep Reynard from killing our men, then she really will sacrifice whatever she has to, to save the three of us."  
  
Antonia scowled. "I don't like the sound of that."  
  
"Neither do I," said Elizabeth. "So if it comes to that, then we need to come up with a way to rescue her in turn." 


	15. Chapter 15

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 15  
  
Lieutenant Richard Markson sat in a dingy tavern in Port Antonio staring into a flagon of weak grog. He'd managed to find a small merchant ship in Port Royal whose Captain wasn't completely apoplectic at begin commandeered by the Navy. This wasn't to say that Captain Orford was happy about the idea, but he hadn't threatened Markson's life, health or manhood. Yet. Late yesterday afternoon they'd found a fishing boat matching the description of the one stolen from Port Royal. It had been grounded on the beach in a small cove. Someone had made an attempt to conceal it with shrubbery, but they hadn't done a particularly good job. Markson reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of white satin, which he'd found in the hold of the boat. There had also been several long, honey blond hairs. Elizabeth Turner, no doubt. They'd gone to nearby Port Antonio and questioned everyone they could find, but hadn't come up with much. Yes, there'd been a ship anchored in the cove. No, they didn't know which ship it was. No, they didn't know anything about it. Someone had to know SOMETHING, Markson was sure of it.  
  
Then earlier today he'd received a note. It was short, unsigned and rather vague, but it had told him to be in this tavern at this hour wearing civilian attire. Accordingly, Markson had scrounged up a pair of brown breeches, a worn cotton shirt and a faded dark green coat. Since he disliked wearing a wig unless he had to, his own brown hair was tied neatly back in a ponytail.  
  
Markson raised his eyes and scanned the room again. This time he caught the eye of a man sitting near the bar. He was a sailor by the look of him, mid-forties probably. The overwhelming impression of the man was brown; brown hair, leathery tanned skin, brown eyes, brown clothing. When Markson caught his eye, he rose and walked over, taking the chair opposite. He set his tankard down on the table and reached into his pocket, pulling out a strip of white satin and laying it on the table next to the scrap Markson had found on the fishing boat. With a quick indrawn breath, Markson scooped it up and examined it. It was the same. He looked up quickly. "Where did you find this?"  
  
The man watched him, his face impassive. "In the hold of my boat." He raised his tankard and took a sip. "Shall I tell you the whole?"  
  
"Please do," said Markson grimly.  
  
"Very well," the brown man set down his tankard again. "About a week ago, I was approached by a man who offered me money to make a quick delivery for him. I was to pick up the cargo, which he said would be two men escorting a third person, several miles from Port Royal on a particular day. We were to sail to a small cove east of Port Antonio, where I was to deliver them to a larger ship, the Vixen. They asked if I had a brig or other secure area for the third person." The man shrugged. "I though perhaps they were transporting a slave or a prisoner, but I did not ask. When the men arrived, they told me they had two people to transport, and they paid an additional amount. Again I did not question it. Both these prisoners were women. I thought it odd, but one was black and the other looked Spanish. A slave and an indentured servant maybe? Or perhaps a hostage? Then I recognized the black woman as being a crewmember of the Black Pearl."  
  
"Annamaria Simone," stated Markson flatly.  
  
The brown man took a sip from his tankard. "Aye. I went down to the room in the hold where they were kept and asked her to explain to me what a crewmember of the Black Pearl would be doing aboard my boat as a prisoner. She told me that she, the other woman who she identified as Antonia Swann, and two others had been kidnapped. They told me that one of the others was Captain Sparrow's wife."  
  
Markson nodded. "All true."  
  
"They told me that there would be a reward if I helped them. I told them I could not betray the Reynard the Fox, who is captain of the Vixen, under his very nose, so they asked me to go to Port Royal and report where they are. But that is why you are here, is it not?"  
  
"It is indeed," Markson confirmed. "I traced the women as far as this. Where is the Vixen now?"  
  
The man answered. "She sailed yesterday morning."  
  
"Do you know to where?"  
  
"I do. After I spoke with the two women, I made it my business to find out from their captors where they were to go next."  
  
Markson leaned forward intently. "Tell me."  
  
The other man raised a brow. "So you can follow in your merchant ship with your disgruntled captain?"  
  
Markson glared. "If need be. I must find those women."  
  
"Because one is your commanding officer's betrothed?"  
  
Markson's face became stony. "Because I know all four of them, and I count them as friends."  
  
"The women or their men?"  
  
"Both."  
  
The brown man smiled. "Then I will help you."  
  
Markson raised his own brow. "For a reward?"  
  
"No. Because I owe a debt to Jack Sparrow. Send your troop back to Fort Charles with your merchant ship. You will sail with me."  
  
Markson regarded him speculatively. "What sort of ship do you have?"  
  
"A small sloop, the Sandpiper, two masted. I have a ten man crew."  
  
"Smuggler?"  
  
"Please!" An amused look came into the man's eyes. "I run a cargo business."  
  
"Of course," Markson said. "A fine and noble calling." He held out his hand. "Richard Markson."  
  
The brown man extended his as well. "Daniel Hale."  
  
--  
  
Gwen was shaking slightly as she re-emerged on the main deck. Walking over to the rail, she gripped it tightly and took a deep breath. That was probably one of the hardest conversations she'd ever had. Trying to remember everything Cotton's parrot meant when he said those things, working them into a conversation is some sort of natural sounding way, and all the time acting as if she didn't care what happened to Jack, Will, Joseph or Norrington. Thank God Annamaria hadn't let Antonia interrupt. If she'd had to actually look into Tonia's hurt and bewildered eyes she might not have been able to pull it off. Anna and Elizabeth were no doubt enlightening Tonia even now. Gwen smiled slightly in amusement. It was a good thing that this Stevens fellow didn't know her very well. Gwen didn't think she'd ever uttered the phrase 'Shiver me timbers' before in her entire life. If Jack had heard her, he'd have been laughing so hard he would have given them all away. It was just as well that Annamaria didn't have the same sense of humor.  
  
Gwen glanced idly at the ship. It was a barque. The first two masts were square rigged and the last rigged fore and aft. She hadn't been down to the gun deck, of course, but from the length of the ship she thought it probably had ten or twelve cannon. The Black Pearl was larger, had more guns and was probably faster. Reynard probably wasn't thinking about taking her on in battle. Chances were good that in a battle with the Pearl the Vixen would be mauled fairly badly. With two ships attacking at once, it could be done, but the Vixen could still take heavy damage. No, Reynard was planning something else. "If I were trying to kill Jack," Gwen mused to herself, "I'd need to lure him away from his ship. How would I do that?" Obviously the four women were the bait. What sort of trap would do it? Especially since Jack would be well aware that there was a trap set for him.  
  
Sighing, Gwen turned her face into the wind. It was a fairly stiff breeze, molding her skirt against her legs and snapping the excess fabric out behind her. She closed her eyes and breathed in the salty air. Loose tendrils of her hair teased her face and neck as the wind caressed her skin. With her eyes closed she could almost imagine herself on the deck of the Black Pearl. Any moment now Jack would come up behind her, wrap his arms around her waist and nuzzle the back of her neck. If he was in a particularly playful mood he might steal her hairpins; his nimble fingers working so quickly and carefully that she wouldn't be aware of it until her hair fell down her back. She smiled at the memories. Annoying man! Then he'd coax her down to their cabin to redo her hair, and by the time he left to come back on deck, she'd have more than just her hair to fix. Ah, Jack, she thought. Keep yourself safe. Just keep yourself safe.  
  
--  
  
Also heading northeast, Captain Jack Sparrow mounted the stairs to the quarterdeck to take his watch. He'd managed a few hours of sleep. Still bleary eyed, but functioning. Cotton was at the helm. When Jack came up to him, the blue parrot on his shoulder flapped his wings and sang out "A pirate's life for me!"  
  
"Ain't that the truth," muttered Jack, taking the helm. Cotton nodded courteously and went down to the main deck. The wind was stiff - they were making good time. They should make Crooked Island before nightfall. He took out the letter and studied the coordinates again; adjusted the ship's direction slightly and called out some orders to adjust the sails. Best to anchor short of the island and go ashore in daylight. Jack doubted that the trap meant to kill them was on Crooked Island, but it was best to be careful and not stumble into it at night.  
  
Standing at the helm, Jack wasn't able to turn his face into the wind, but by tilting his head a bit he could feel it flowing over his shoulder and around his neck, where a woman's hands would flow as he kissed her. Jack had known the caress of the wind long before he'd ever known the touch of a lover. The indifferent caresses of a prostitute didn't come close. Gwen's hands felt like the wind; curling smoothly around his neck, sliding sensuously down his back. "Ah, Gwen," he murmured to himself. "Keep yourself safe and I'll find you. I swear I will."  
  
-- 


	16. Chapter 16

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 16  
  
The new day dawned bright and clear as the Pearl rode at anchor offshore of Crooked Island. The mood was tense as the four men, Jack, Will, Joseph and Norrington boarded the small boat for their trip ashore. They were lowered to the water's surface, and Joseph picked up the oars. Jack studied the roughly drawn map and checked his compass (the one that points north). As they bottomed out on the sandy beach, the four men jumped out and pulled the boat further onto the sand. Taking a good look around the deserted beach, Jack said, "All right, gents, looks like we head that way," gesturing to a small clump of palm trees a few hundred feet from the water's edge. With Jack studying the map and Will counting off strides, they soon found themselves in a small clearing several hundred yards from the beach. Jack frowned looking at the map again. "This should be the right place," he said dubiously.  
  
Joseph was the one who found the marker. A simple wooden cross leaned against a pile of rock at one edge of the clearing. "It looks like a grave," Joseph said in an unemotional voice.  
  
"Can't be one of the women," said Will in a falsely hearty tone. "He wouldn't have had time to set up his goose chase if he'd come here after the kidnapping. It must be someone else."  
  
"We'd better find out who," said Norrington distastefully. "I'm sure this is the clue we need."  
  
"Well then, let's get to it, mates," Jack said resignedly.  
  
The four men began lifting rocks and setting them aside. After several minutes work they started to uncover the body. This body appeared to be of a man, though it was difficult to tell as it was badly decomposed. The smell was horrendous. "This is probably what we want," said Norrington, lifting a leather bound book from its resting place on the dead man's chest. Tucked into a piece of string tied around the book was a scrap of paper with a crude drawing of a sparrow.  
  
Jack took the book, stripped off the string and opened it. "It's the ship's log from a ship called the Lady Fortuna," he said scanning the first several pages.  
  
Will asked, "Isn't that the name of the ship that Reynard took over?"  
  
Jack nodded. "This poor bloke must have been the previous captain. I guess marooning isn't finite enough for our friend Reynard." He flipped over a page in the log. "Lord Peter Marlby." He flipped a few more pages. "The log ends abruptly about midway through the voyage across the ocean. That must have been when the mutiny happened. Ah, here we go," he said turning to the last page. "A new set of coordinates and another map."  
  
"Where this time?" Joseph asked.  
  
"Not too far from the look of it, still in the Bahamas" Jack answered. "Looks like a small island just off Cat Island."  
  
"Cat Island?" Joseph asked.  
  
Jack shrugged. "The locals sometimes call it Obeah Island. It's a bit north of here."  
  
"Well, let's cover this poor bastard back up and get moving then," said Will, picking up a rock and replacing it on the body.  
  
Norrington also picked up a rock and started the grisly task of reburying Lord Marlby. "Sparrow, may I suggest we take time for a bath before going back to the ship? We all stink of decaying corpse."  
  
"No arguments here, mate," said Jack. "We've time for a swim."  
  
--  
  
"Mrs. Sparrow!" Gwen turned at the call and saw Reynard walking toward her, escorting a young man of perhaps 16 or 17 years old. The lad was holding his left arm, and had blood smeared on his shirt. "I understand you served as physician aboard the Black Pearl?"  
  
"Yes," Gwen replied.  
  
"Good. Ralf here cut his arm rather badly. Can you patch him up for us?"  
  
Gwen took the lad's arm and looked at the cut. "It will need some stitches." She looked up at Reynard. "I will need a needle, thread, water, clean rags and some wine. May we use your cabin?"  
  
"Of course, my dear. I'll see to it you have the supplies you need."  
  
It took several minutes to assemble the things she asked for, but soon she was ready. "Why don't you take off your shirt and sit down?" Gwen said with a smile. Flushing, the boy complied. Taking a rag, she dipped it in the basin of water and began sponging the blood from the wound. "How did you manage to do this?"  
  
"There was a nail sticking out of a cask in the cargo hold," mumbled Ralf. "I slipped and fell against it."  
  
"Have you been a sailor on the Vixen for long?"  
  
"I joined the ship in England, ma'am."  
  
"In England?" Gwen smiled charmingly. "I've never been there. Some day I'd like to go. Is this your first trip to the Caribbean?"  
  
"Aye, ma'am."  
  
"How do you like it?"  
  
"It's beautiful and no mistake, ma'am."  
  
Gwen poured some wine onto a rag. "This is going to hurt," she warned. Ralf flinched and hissed in his breath when she wiped the wound down. "There," she said, laying down the rag and picking up the needle. She smiled again. "This will hurt too. It'll be easier for you if you talk to me about something. It will help keep your mind off what I'm doing."  
  
"Aye, ma'am," said Ralf nervously. "We're making good time," he blurted out "We should make Nassau in three more days."  
  
"Nassau?" Gwen fought to keep her voice steady and only politely interested. "Is that where we're headed?"  
  
"Aye, ma'am. First to Nassau and then to a little island just south of New Providence."  
  
"New Providence is a lovely island isn't it?" Gwen said cautiously. "I've been there a few times. My husband sells cargo in Nassau from time to time."  
  
"Aye, ma'am. All the pirates do, I'm told."  
  
"Ah, so you know who my husband is?"  
  
"I've never met him, ma'am, but I've heard stories."  
  
Gwen smiled, "What stories have you heard?" As Ralf rambled on telling some legend that bore little resemblance to the truth, Gwen's mind turned over the facts she'd just learned. They were headed to Nassau, a port city on the island of New Providence in the Bahamas. Nassau rivaled Tortuga as a haven for pirates. And then to a little island just south of the main island? That was probably where Reynard planned on springing whatever trap he'd set for Jack and the others.  
  
Ralf came to the end of his tale, and Gwen smiled at him again. "How long will we be staying in Nassau, do you know?"  
  
"Just briefly ma'am. I believe the Captain wants to leave the women there."  
  
"Oh? All four of us?"  
  
"I couldn't say, ma'am."  
  
"Well that would be fine. I know several people there it would be pleasant to see again," Gwen lied pleasantly. She tended to avoid Nassau as much as she avoided Tortuga, staying aboard ship the whole time they were in port. She finished stitching and picked up the rag to wipe the wound down with wine again.  
  
The lad yelped when the wine hit his raw flesh. "Sorry, ma'am," he said  
  
"My fault," Gwen said, "I should have warned you I was going to do that. Well," she said brightly, "just a bandage and you'll be fine. I'll take another look at it tomorrow and see how it's healing."  
  
"Thank you ma'am," he said nervously. "I hope I wasn't speaking out of turn. The Captain might not have wanted me to say anything about going to Nassau."  
  
Gwen smiled broadly. "Don't worry, Ralf. I won't tell him you told me."  
  
-- 


	17. Chapter 17

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 17  
  
Lieutenant Markson stood at the rail of the small sloop as it cut through the waves. Captain Hale came up beside him. "We're making good time," the Captain said. "It should take the Vixen four days to get to Nassau. It should only take us three as we're smaller and faster."  
  
Markson looked at the older man. "So since they had a day and a half lead on us, we should be there less than a day after they get there, yes?"  
  
"Aye," Hale said.  
  
"So," Markson said, "what is this debt of gratitude that you owe Jack Sparrow?"  
  
Hale grinned. "Are ye asking me as a Lieutenant of the Fort Charles garrison, or are ye asking me man to man?"  
  
Markson grinned in turn. "As I'm out of uniform I'm asking man to man. Besides, when my superior at the Fort finds out that I've taken off on a free trading vessel without my troop, I might just find myself court martialed."  
  
Hale laughed. "Well, if you rescue the Commodore's lady, he'll probably put a good word in for ye." He sobered and continued to speak. "Many years ago before I had me own ship, I hired on to a number of different ships for different things. I worked on merchantmen, pirate ships, rumrunners and smugglers. I wasn't real particular, just looking for a good spot and good companions. Did some whaling up north for a while, worked on the docks for a bit. Anyway, I'd signed onto a merchant ship at one point. We were sailing from Barbados up to Boston. Just south of the Antigua, we ran afoul of a pirate ship. The Black Pearl, in fact. The merchantman, well she wasn't built for speed, so we turned to fight. We put up as good a fight as we could, but not good enough. When I saw that we were losing, I called quarter quickly enough. No point in dying for someone else's money, eh? Well, the pirates rounded up all hands and herded us onto the main deck while they searched the ship for valuables. I was just waiting patiently, sure that we'd be allowed to go our way as soon as the pirates had taken all they wanted. We'd have to put into Antigua for new supplies, but well, that's the way of it. Only the pirates were a rowdier crew than I'd met before. They were baiting my Captain and his mate, almost daring them to resist. When the mate had had enough, he took a swing at one of the pirates. Well, they shot the man through the heart as he was standing there unarmed. Then they started in on the Captain again. I was shocked. It was as if they were looking for an excuse to kill us all where we stood. Well, their Captain heard the shot and he stormed up on deck and lit into the pirate who'd killed the mate. Young Captain Jack Sparrow that was. He shouted that pirate down and ordered him back to the Pearl, and then Jack ordered the man held in the brig until he had leisure to deal with him. It didn't please the other pirates much, but Jack stared them all down. Not much more than a lad he was, scarce five and twenty I daresay. Still the man had presence, even as young as he was. The pirates started back to their own ship, and I stepped forward and thanked Captain Sparrow for controlling his men as he did. I told him I'd done some sailing with the brethren, and we talked for a moment about different ships and all. Then as Captain Sparrow turned to follow his crew back to the Pearl, one of the pirates came up to me and pulled a pistol on me, saying I'd betrayed the brethren by signing onto a merchant ship and how he'd send me to Davy Jones locker for the deed. The man truly meant to kill me! Well Sparrow heard him and turned back. He pulled his own pistol and shot his own man before he could kill me.  
  
"Everyone stared from the dead pirate to the young Captain standing there and no one knew what to say. Finally Jack Sparrow looked at my Captain, and apologized for the misbehavior of his men. He gave me a nod, then ordered the last of his pirates back to the Pearl. They cast off and left. I heard later that it wasn't much after that than the crew of the Pearl mutinied and left Jack marooned. I also heard he'd been picked up by some rumrunners. Well, I run into Jack now and then in Tortuga or Port Royal. We've shared rum or two and some stories, but I've never had the chance to pay him back for saving my skin like he did. It may even have been the last straw for him too. He was having trouble controlling his crew then and shooting his own man couldn't have helped much."  
  
"I'm surprised he did it if it jeopardized his standing with his crew so much."  
  
Hale shrugged. "He's a man who values the code too much. He'd rather die doing the right thing than live doing the wrong. If I can repay my debt to him by helping to save his lady, then I'll do it."  
  
Markson clapped Hale on the shoulder. "You're a good man, Captain."  
  
--  
  
The ladies in the brig of the Vixen were beyond boredom. Elizabeth wished devoutly that she was either close enough to her two fellow prisoners to knock their heads together, or far enough away so she didn't need to hear them bickering any more. In desperation she'd asked Antonia to teach her some Spanish. Like most inhabitants of the Caribbean - even those in English colonies, she understood some Spanish, but she didn't speak it well. For a while Annamaria, whose command of the Spanish language was strictly of the waterfront variety, amused herself by teaching the other two some Spanish phrases that most ladies never even heard, much less knew the meaning of. But when Antonia failed to grasp the meaning of a particular phrase even after it had been explained to her, Annamaria started griping about sheltered noblewomen and high bred ladies again.  
  
Finally Elizabeth said, "Anna, do you WANT Antonia to have experienced everything you did?"  
  
Stung, Annamaria replied indignantly, "Of course not!"  
  
"Then shut up!" Elizabeth snapped. "For your information, 'I' barely understood what you meant, and I'm a married woman. You should be glad that most women don't have to endure what you have, not get angry because some of us have been luckier than you."  
  
After a long awkward silence, Annamaria spoke again. "I'm sorry. I can't stand being caged up.  
  
Elizabeth said more gently, "And because you're afraid?"  
  
Stung, Annamaria answered abruptly, "Who says I'm afraid?"  
  
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "If you aren't afraid, Anna, then you're an idiot. We're at the mercy of someone who is trying to kill those we love. Heaven knows what he plans for us, but I can't imagine that it's anything we should be looking forward to."  
  
Antonia answered, "We're all afraid, Anna. You're afraid because you know very well what might lie ahead for you. I'm afraid because I don't, and the unknown is terrifying to me."  
  
Elizabeth started to speak, but broke off as she heard light footsteps on the stairs. A moment later, Gwen hurried in. "I can't stay more than a second, I don't dare be caught here. Here," she shoved a hand into Annamaria's cell and dropped something into her hand. "They won't do you much good at sea, but when we make port you might find them useful. We're headed to Nassau. Should be there in three days. He plans on dropping you three off there and then heading to a small island south of New Providence. I don't know what he plans for me." At the sound of footsteps overhead, Gwen froze, then fled back up the stairs.  
  
The three women looked at each other blankly. "What did she give you, Anna?" Elizabeth asked.  
  
Annamaria smiled broadly. "Hairpins."  
  
Antonia looked puzzled. "Hairpins? Why do you care about hairpins?"  
  
Annamaria grinned at her. "Watch and learn." Inserting a pin into the lock, she felt around for a few minutes, then with a snick, the lock sprang open. Opening the door, she crossed the aisle and handed a pin to Elizabeth, then retraced her steps to give one to Antonia. "Interested in a class on lock picking, ladies?"  
  
--  
  
The Black Pearl anchored off the little island indicated on their map mid morning the following day. Once again, Will, Joseph, Jack and Norrington rowed out to the beach. "I just hope we don't find another dead body," Will said.  
  
"So don't we all," said Jack absently, studying the map. "Looks like we go in that direction." After several minutes of walking, the men found themselves on a rocky bluff overlooking the beach. "Well, this is the spot," Jack said looking around. Again, it was Joseph who noticed the clue they were looking for. He lifted a few rocks to fully uncover a bottle that was wedged up against a large boulder. Picking up the bottle, he handed it to Jack, who pulled out the cork and shook out a rolled up piece of paper.  
  
"My dear Captain Sparrow," he read aloud. "If you're reading this, it seems you're managing to keep up on my little treasure hunt. I'm greatly enjoying the company of your lovely wife; she is quite a charming lady. Your next port of call is San Andreas Island. You are to go to the village of San Mateo on the west coast. When you get there, pay a call on a gentleman named Ramon, who can be found at a tavern called The Fallen Angel. He will give you further instructions. As the time for our meeting draws near, I look forward avidly to seeing you again. As I am sure, are you. Yours most sincerely, Reynard the Fox." Jack looked up at the others. "I think I hate this man."  
  
Joseph, who had noticed how Jack's mouth had tightened when he'd read the reference to Gwen, said "He wrote this letter before he kidnapped the ladies. The comment about Mrs. Sparrow is made only to offend you, Captain."  
  
Jack smiled grimly. "I know. I still think I hate him, though."  
  
"Well, let's get going. It'll take us probably two days to get to San Andreas from here," Norrington said, starting back down the bluff.  
  
**Author's note** San Andreas Island is currently known as Andros Island. San Andreas is an older name, which I figured to be more contemporary with the story. 


	18. Chapter 18

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 18  
  
The small sloop skipped swiftly over the waves, headed for Nassau. They had made excellent time, and were one day out from their destination. Markson was standing next to Captain Hale at the helm when the lookout shouted, "Sails, ho! Starboard!" As Hale took out his telescope, the lookout continued. "Black sails!"  
  
"My God, is it the Pearl?" Markson gasped. "How many ships have black sails?"  
  
"Not many," answered Hale, "Not many at all." He took a long look. "It's the Pearl all right."  
  
"Flag her down, Captain," Markson urged.  
  
"Aye," he agreed. "Turn to starboard!" Hale barked out. "Run up the white flag!"  
  
--  
  
It was Norrington's watch at the helm when the lookout called down. "Sails ahead!" With a slight frown, Norrington pulled out his telescope and looked down it. It looked like a small sloop. Not of great concern, but he'd keep an eye on it. When it turned toward them a few minutes later he frowned again.  
  
"Davy," Norrington called to one of the sailors. "Ask Captain Sparrow to step up here, would you?"  
  
"Aye, sir," the man answered and hurried off.  
  
Jack was on the quarterdeck only minutes later. "What's your concern, Commodore?"  
  
Norrington gestured toward the small sloop ahead of them. "That ship was heading north when we first spotted her, but she's turned directly toward us. I can't imagine why, but I wanted to be sure you were informed."  
  
With a frown Jack took Norrington's telescope and peered through it. "Hmmm. Small sloop, looks like any one of a hundred you might see in these waters. She wouldn't stand a chance against us, so I can't believe she's hostile."  
  
"The Black Pearl is very recognizable, Sparrow, so I'm sure she must know who we are."  
  
"Hmmm. Maintain course and speed. We'll find out shortly what she intends."  
  
A moment later, Norrington saw a flag go up on the sloop. Snatching the telescope back out of Jack's hands, he looked through. "They've run up a white flag."  
  
Jack yanked it back and looked himself. "Indeed they have. Well, let's stop and see what they have to say, shall we?" He shoved the telescope back into Norrington's hands. "Heave to and take in sail!"  
  
--  
  
Captain Hale and Lt. Markson watched as the Black Pearl took in sail and slowed their forward motion. "They're stopping, Captain," Markson remarked.  
  
"Aye, they are," agreed Hale. As they approached the Pearl, Hale gave the order to heave to. Shortly he, Markson and two other crewmen boarded a small boat to row over to the Pearl.  
  
--  
  
Norrington trained the telescope on the small boat headed over from the sloop. "Good God, is that Lt. Markson?"  
  
Will, who had joined them on the quarterdeck when Jack had given the order to heave to, took the telescope and looked through it. "It certainly looks like him, although he isn't in uniform."  
  
"What in heavens name is he doing here?" Norrington shook his head in bewilderment.  
  
Jack grinned wolfishly, his gold teeth glinting in the sun. "Let's welcome him aboard and find out."  
  
As the boat drew nearer, Markson called out "Ahoy the Pearl! Permission to come aboard, sir!"  
  
Jack shouted back, "Permission granted! Markson, what the devil are you doing here?"  
  
Markson grinned. "Long story sir!"  
  
"Then get up here, lad and tell us!"  
  
Markson quickly scaled the rope ladder, followed by Captain Hale. He saluted Norrington as soon as he set foot on deck. "Commodore."  
  
Norrington returned the salute. "Lieutenant. You're out of uniform."  
  
Markson replied. "Necessity, sir."  
  
Norrington glanced at his own civilian clothes. "I suppose."  
  
Captain Hale reached out to shake Jack's hand. "Captain Sparrow, good to see you again."  
  
"Likewise, Captain Hale." Jack looked around. "Perhaps we should all go down to my cabin. It appears that you and the Lieutenant have much to tell us." He glanced around. "Cotton, take the helm. Davy, find Joseph and send him to my cabin." He stepped back and gestured to the other men. "Gentlemen, this way."  
  
--  
  
"So if Gwen's information was correct, we'll get to Nassau tomorrow," Elizabeth said as she struggled to unlock her cell door with the hairpin.  
  
"That's right," said Antonia, inserting her own hairpin into the lock on her door. With a few short twists of her wrist, the cell door sprang open. She stepped back looking pleased. "I'm getting very good at this!" Crossing to Elizabeth's cell, she opened it swiftly. "Here," she instructed, "Insert the pin at a slight angle to the left."  
  
Under Antonia's instruction, Elizabeth managed to get the door open, but it took her a great deal longer than it had taken Antonia. "I don't think I really have the knack for it."  
  
Annamaria shrugged. "I don't suppose it's a skill you'll need frequently."  
  
"I certainly hope not," said Elizabeth, shutting the door and starting again. "But there's no denying that it's useful."  
  
Annamaria's mood had improved immeasurably since they'd been able to unlock their cell doors at will. She'd spent half the previous night prowling around the hold. While there wasn't much in there that was of any use to the captives, just being able to walk around and stretch her legs had been a relief to a woman who was used to an active lifestyle. A quick look on deck, however, had proved that the watch was too tight to prowl up there without being seen.  
  
"What do you say," said Annamaria, "to unlocking our cells and letting ourselves out the first night we're in port? We could find Gwen, steal a boat and get ourselves to shore."  
  
"Sounds like a good plan to me," said Elizabeth, biting her lip with concentration. "Although you may want to ask Tonia to open my cell for me. If I had to do it myself, I'd still be here the next morning."  
  
--  
  
"So you're saying," said Commodore Norrington slowly, "that this Reynard hid the ladies in a brothel until nightfall, then separated them and smuggled them out of Port Royal individually?"  
  
"More or less," said Markson. "Both Miss Swann and Miss Simone were taken to Captain Hale's ship, and the fishing boat I found had blond hairs in it, which leads me to believe that Mrs. Turner was hidden there. I don't know how Mrs. Sparrow was taken."  
  
Captain Hale spoke up. "When I delivered Miss Swann and Miss Simone to the Vixen, they said I was the last to arrive, which leads me to believe that Mrs. Sparrow and Mrs. Turner were already aboard. The ship sailed the next morning."  
  
Jack spoke next. "Why do you believe they're headed for Nassau?"  
  
"One of the Vixen's crew mentioned it to a chance acquaintance in a tavern," said Hale blandly.  
  
"A chance acquaintance?" Jack asked speculatively.  
  
"Aye," Hale said. "One of my men just happened to strike up a conversation with the lad that night before they sailed."  
  
"What an amazing coincidence," Jack drawled.  
  
"Captain Hale," said Norrington, ignoring the byplay. "Are you willing to continue with us to Nassau?"  
  
"Aye, Commodore, I am," the brown man replied. "I'll follow you as swiftly as I can. Lieutenant, do you continue with me, or stay aboard the Pearl?"  
  
"Richard, I think it would be best if you returned to the Sandpiper," said Will. "It would divide our assets just in case something unexpected happens."  
  
Markson nodded. "As you say, Will," he replied looking over at Norrington for approval.  
  
Norrington nodded curtly. "Yes, Lieutenant. That would be best."  
  
"Very well," said Jack rising. "We'll make all speed to Nassau."  
  
-- 


	19. Chapter 19

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 19  
  
The Vixen dropped anchor in Nassau port not long after it was light. Around midmorning, Reynard went down to the brig accompanied by several of his crew. "Well, ladies, your voyage is at an end."  
  
"Where are we, Captain?" Elizabeth asked.  
  
"Nassau," answered Reynard pleasantly, gesturing for his men to open the cell doors. "You will be going ashore and staying at an establishment in town until I've taken care of some business elsewhere."  
  
"What sort of business?" Annamaria inquired as she submitted grudgingly to having her wrists bound again.  
  
"Why killing your husbands and lovers, of course," he answered smoothly. "It's time for me to head for our rendezvous point and wait for them."  
  
"Where might that rendezvous point be?"  
  
"Don't be so inquisitive, Annamaria dear," he replied. He nodded to his men, and they ushered the women up the stairs to the main deck.  
  
"Where is Gwen Sparrow?" Elizabeth asked as she was assisted into a small boat.  
  
"Mrs. Sparrow will be staying aboard, Mrs. Turner," Reynard said. "She will be needed as bait for her husband." He barked an order to his men, and the boat was lowered into the water. Rowing ashore took several minutes. When they reached the shore the sailors tied up the boat and roughly lifted the women to the dock.  
  
Seeing the interested gazes of several of the men in the dock area, Antonia shrank back against Annamaria and whispered, "What should we do?"  
  
"Nothing yet," Annamaria answered quietly. "We can't escape in broad daylight on the docks. We wouldn't get thirty feet away."  
  
"No talking, ladies," snapped Reynard, grasping Annamaria's arm and pulling her away from Antonia. He shoved her at one of his sailors, who took her arms and pulled her along the dock. He put his arm around Antonia's waist. "Besides, my dear, these gentlemen watching would love to have a closer acquaintance with you, if you know what I mean. You're safer with me, believe it or not." He laughed unpleasantly and puller her after the others.  
  
The walk to the establishment where they would be left took several minutes. Annamaria scanned the streets looking for someone she knew who might be willing to help, but was disappointed. As they approached the large building on a side street she turned to Reynard. "Another brothel?"  
  
"Aye, luv. They're such useful businesses. The proprietors will usually do just about anything for money." He opened the door, on which was painted the words 'The Golden Mermaid' and featured a picture of a half- naked woman with a fish tail for legs. Once inside, Annamaria looked swiftly around and groaned inwardly. Of all people to see! There would be no help in that quarter.  
  
"Well, I'll be hanged," drawled a voice in heavily accented English. "Annamaria Simone. Did Captain Sparrow finally weary of you?"  
  
"Etienne Arnault," she replied coldly. "Fancy seeing you in a place like this."  
  
"Captain Arnault," he said with a hint of anger. He advanced on Annamaria and looked her up and down. "Could it be that you will be coming to work in this fine establishment?" He put a hand on her waist and pulled her against him, ignoring her attempts to push him away with her bound hands.  
  
"Captain?" Annamaria sneered. "So you've managed to steal a boat from someone? What is it, a fishing boat or something?"  
  
Arnault's face darkened, and Reynard stepped forward and put a hand on his arm. "I'm afraid, Captain, that Madame Carlotta and I haven't yet come to an agreement as yet on the disposition of my, uh, cargo." He pulled Annamaria away from Arnault and thrust her toward the staircase where his men were escorting Elizabeth and Antonia to the second floor. "Perhaps another time."  
  
Arnault looked appreciatively at the three women. "Fine cargo it is, mate." He grinned. "I'm sure ye'll get your price."  
  
Reynard smirked. "I intend to." He turned toward a door where a stout woman was waiting for him. "I intend to." Entering the room, he shut the door behind him.  
  
Madame Carlotta spoke first. "At first glance they all seem quite lovely," she said in an unemotional voice. "Where do they come from? Captives, I assume?"  
  
"Quite right, Madame," said Reynard smoothly. "However, my plans for them in the long term are as yet uncertain. I'm not interested in selling them to you outright, at least not at the moment. I must sail again almost immediately, and I need a place for them to stay for several weeks."  
  
"This is not a boarding house, Captain Reynard," said the Madame coldly.  
  
"Oh, I have no objection to the ladies working for their keep," Reynard returned amicably. "In fact I imagine they would prove quite a draw. As you saw in the lobby of your fine establishment, the black woman is fairly well known among the Brethren of the Coast. She was the second mate aboard the Black Pearl. Imagine, if you will, "his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "how interested some of the pirate community would be to have the infamous Annamaria Simone under them in bed."  
  
"There is something in what you say," agreed Madame Carlotta cautiously. "What of the other two?"  
  
"The blond is the daughter of the Governor of Jamaica and the black haired one is his niece. The black haired girl's betrothed, by the way, is Commodore Norrington of Fort Charles in Port Royal. Imagine how much those gentlemen with grudges against the Royal Navy would enjoy spending some...quality time.. with the Commodore's fiancée."  
  
She frowned. "It wouldn't be prudent to keep Governor's female relatives here for very long. This is an English colony after all. He's bound to hear of it."  
  
Reynard nodded. "Exactly. When I've completed my other business and can return, you'll be wanting to rid yourself of those two. I'll take them away, and if the Governor or the Commodore come searching for their women, they'll not find them here."  
  
Madame Carlotta was nodding slowly. "Very well. What is your price?"  
  
"A third of whatever they make for you while they are here."  
  
"Done."  
  
--  
  
The three women were ushered into a fairly large room. It contained the expected large bed covered with a velvet coverlet, although it contained several other pieces of furniture as well. A short, rather stout woman with cold, calculating eyes entered the room next. "My name is Madame Carlotta. Welcome to the Golden Mermaid." Behind her entered several servants who emptied buckets of water into a large tub in the corner of the room. "We have certain standards of cleanliness and beauty here at The Mermaid," Madame Carlotta went on. "I expect my girls to maintain those standards."  
  
Elizabeth found her voice. "Are you suggesting that we will be working here as....as prostitutes?" Her voice rang with outrage.  
  
Madame Carlotta continued as if Elizabeth hadn't spoken. "In general my new girls are unused to the rigors of their new life. If you require....training... it will be provided."  
  
"I understand you buy your girls from pirates, aye?" Annamaria asked.  
  
"Why yes," she answered. "From my conversation with Captain Reynard, I assume you know how that goes. Former pirate yourself, aren't you?"  
  
"Privateer, Madame, and I'm STILL a privateer."  
  
Madame Carlotta merely looked amused. "Well, privateer or not, I've already booked your first appointment. Captain Arnault is most anxious to see you again. I'll expect you to be bathed and in clean clothes in an hour. There are garments in that wardrobe," she gestured to a large piece of furniture. "Find something that fits you." As Annamaria gaped at her in astonishment, she went on. "My dear, not one of the girls I purchase from the pirates wants to be here. Don't think for a moment that we're not used to some...resistance. I full expect to deliver you to your appointment in chains if necessary. Captain Arnault may even prefer it." She smirked at the thought. "If you'll notice, there are bars on the windows, locks on the doors, and," she indicated the large, expressionless woman standing near the door, "Ada will keep an eye on you." She nodded at the pistol in Ada's hands. "If you won't bathe and dress of your own free will, you'll do it at pistol point." She smiled briefly and went out.  
  
Ada leaned back against the door and regarded the three women. "Get started," she said indicating the tub.  
  
-- 


	20. Chapter 20

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 20  
  
An hour later, Annamaria was ready. The wardrobe had held an astonishing variety of garments. Anna was attired in a pair of black satin breeches and a snowy white shirt with lace frills down the front. The breeches fit more snugly than the ones she usually wore and showed off her curves more than she liked, but she much preferred them to a gown. Elizabeth and Antonia had also bathed, and were examining the clothing provided. Antonia held up a nun's habit with a perplexed look on her face. "Why in the world would they have a nun's habit in a brothel?"  
  
"Oh, Tonia," said Annamaria patiently, taking it from her and hanging it in the wardrobe again. "You really don't want to know."  
  
Elizabeth finished lacing up the dress she'd chosen. It was more practical than most of the gowns in the wardrobe, which seemed to cater to a wide variety of odd tastes. It was a light green linen gown with lace at the neckline and elbow length sleeves. The neck was cut far too low, but there wasn't a single dress in there that wasn't. The only exception was the nun's habit, of course. She quickly twisted her hair into a braid that fell down her back. When Ada was looking the other way, she slipped the hairpin into it, catching Annamaria's eye as she did so. "Next watch, Anna," she said softly. I'll get back to you, wait for me. It wasn't a very good phrase and it didn't cover exactly what she meant, but she hoped Annamaria would understand that if she and Antonia could do anything to save Annamaria, that they would do it.  
  
A knock came at the door, and Madame Carlotta stepped inside. "I see you're ready, my dear," she said to Annamaria. "I approve of the look. A pirate lass to the end, eh?" She held out a pair of manacles. "Hold out your hands, girl." Shooting a look of dislike at the Madame and another at Ada, whose pistol was ready to enforce the command, Annamaria did so. When they were securely fastened, Madame Carlotta took Annamaria's arm and stepped into the hallway. "Come with me," she said to Ada in a curt voice.  
  
"Should these two be left alone?" Ada asked  
  
Madame Carlotta laughed. "Why not? This one is the dangerous one." The door shut behind them and the lock clicked shut.  
  
Antonia tossed a black gown over her head and started lacing it up. "Now that was insulting," she said to Elizabeth with a grin.  
  
Elizabeth grinned back. "We're nothing but a couple of witless noblewomen, Tonia. No need to worry about us!" She regarded Antonia critically. "Why on earth would anyone put red lace on a black dress like that?"  
  
Antonia shook her hair back and finished lacing it up. "No doubt I'll set a new style in Port Royal." She took out her own hairpin and examined the lock on the door. "It's a little different from the ones in the Vixen's brig," she said absently, feeling around with the pin. "Ah, there we go," she said with satisfaction. The lock clicked open and she eased the door open and peered around it into the hall. "No one in sight." Opening it carefully, she and Elizabeth slipped soundlessly into the hall.  
  
--  
  
Madame Carlotta escorted Annamaria down the hall and around a corner. Pausing at one door, she rapped lightly, then opened it without waiting for a response and thrust Annamaria inside. "Captain Arnault," she asked, "Do you want the irons removed?"  
  
Arnault had risen from the chair he'd been sitting in and regarded Annamaria's rigid stance and furious eyes. "No," he drawled. "Best to leave them on."  
  
"Very well," Madame Carlotta answered, and exited, shutting the door behind her.  
  
Unhurried, Arnault strolled over to the door and turned the key in the lock. Reaching up, he placed the key on the decorative molding around the door. "Now, my dear, perhaps we can get comfortable."  
  
"Comfortable?" Annamaria sneered. "How comfortable am I supposed to be with manacles on my wrists?"  
  
Arnault shrugged. "A mere precaution, darling. Don't tell me you've resigned yourself to your fate. I'd never believe it."  
  
"Then I won't bother," she returned. "Though I can't help but wonder what your crew would think if they knew you needed to keep a woman in irons in order to have your way with her."  
  
Anger flickered in Arnault's eyes, but he smiled. "Nice try, Annamaria, but it won't work." Reaching out, his hand closed on the chain between the irons. Hauling her over to the bed, he clipped the chain to a ring in the headboard, ignoring the insults she shrieked at him. Then he walked over to the chair he'd been sitting in, stripping off his sword belt and coat as he walked and dropped them over the back of the chair. Sitting down he started pulling his boots off, but paused to listen appreciatively to the torrent of venom coming from the woman on the bed. "By the powers, luv, you certainly have a unique turn of phrase." Clad only in a shirt and breeches, he went back to the bed.  
  
Grimly Annamaria fought to stop, or even delay the fate looming over her, but Arnault, like many pirates, was skilled in the act of rape. No matter how she twisted or kicked, she wasn't able to escape him for more than a moment, or to land a blow that would deter him. Soon her shirt was hanging open and Arnault's fingers were busy with the fastenings of her breeches. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the door open then shut again. Out a desperate need to distract him, she screeched out again, and redoubled her efforts to twist out of his hands. "Shut up, you stupid wench," Arnault snapped as he roughly dragged her back toward him again. Then the butt of his own pistol descended on his head, and he slumped heavily on top of Annamaria's body.  
  
Looking over the top of his unconscious head, Anna glared up at Elizabeth, who was standing there with the pistol looking pleased with herself. "Took you long enough."  
  
Elizabeth shrugged and took Arnault's arm to drag him off Annamaria. "It took a while to find the right room. When you started screaming at him, however, we recognized your voice right away."  
  
Antonia leaned over the started picking the lock on the manacles that bound Annamaria's wrists. "I especially liked the phrase you used just before Elizabeth knocked him out. Isn't that one of the ones you taught us back on the Vixen?"  
  
The lock clicked open and Annamaria sat up and massaged her wrists. "Aye, it was." Her eyes glinted with humor. "Useful little phrase, isn't it?"  
  
"Hmmm," mused Elizabeth. "Help me drag him closer to the headboard, and we can lock him in these things." Together the three women hauled Arnault close enough to fit the manacles on his wrists, and Annamaria snapped them closed. Antonia fetched his sash and gagged him with it. "There," said Elizabeth with satisfaction. "That takes care of him. Now we just need to get out of here."  
  
Annamaria slung Arnault's swordbelt over her own shoulder, and tossed Elizabeth the pouch where he'd kept his extra power and shot. "Here, Tonia, take his dagger," she said handing the knife to the other girl. "Now," she said, "I've been here before and I know the town somewhat. We're going to make our way to the docks and try to steal a small boat, something that I can sail myself with a little help from you two. We can't afford to wait until dark. It isn't going to take that long before they realize we're gone."  
  
"All right," said Elizabeth. "Let's go."  
  
Antonia had no sooner opened the door, however, than they heard Madame Carlotta's voice. Ducking back inside, they listened carefully. "She's just your type, sir, a pretty young French girl. A virgin too. I'm sure you'll be pleased." Antonia opened the door a crack to see Madame Carlotta, escorting a prosperous looking man, pass their door and stop at one several feet down the hall. Unlocking the door, Madame Carlotta opened it, glanced inside and ushered the man inside. A moment later, she came out again. Antonia eased the door closed as Madame passed, then looked again to make sure she'd gone.  
  
"All clear," she whispered. As they entered the hall, however, a scream was heard from the door down the hall, and Antonia found herself walking toward it.  
  
"Tonia, we don't have time!" Annamaria hissed. "Come on!"  
  
Antonia flinched as another cry was heard. Making up her mind she started picking the lock. "I can't just leave her, Anna, that could be me in there."  
  
"It may still if we don't get out of here," Anna hissed again. The lock clicked and Antonia stood there with her hand on the knob. "Oh bloody hell," Anna cursed. "Elizabeth, get over here with the pistol and hold it on him." Annamaria yanked the sword out of the sheath. "Let's just get this over with." She kicked the door open.  
  
"Hold!" Elizabeth ordered in a low voice, training the pistol on the man, who froze. So did the girl.  
  
"Stand back, girl," Annamaria ordered curtly. "Antonia, find something to bind him up with." Spying the velvet strips that were tying back the curtains, Antonia used them to bind him hand and foot. A strip torn from the sheets served as a gag. The man secured, Annamaria turned to the girl. She was young, maybe 17 or 18, with long brown hair and blue eyes. Even red eyed and pale she was very pretty. "What's your name?"  
  
"Jeannine," she answered in accented English.  
  
"All right, Jeannine," Annamaria said, "We're leaving. Do everything I tell you. Savvy?"  
  
"Yes," Jeannine whispered.  
  
"Let's go then." She glared at Antonia. "No more rescue missions!"  
  
Elizabeth glanced out into the hall. "All clear."  
  
Annamaria stooped quickly and went through the man's pockets, ignoring his protesting grunts and glaring eyes. She withdrew his purse and tossed it to Elizabeth. "These stupid breeches don't have any pockets." Elizabeth slipped it into the powder pouch and stepped into the hall. The four women slipped down the backstairs and out the back door without running into anyone else. Quickly Anna led the group down an alley and away.  
  
-- 


	21. Chapter 21

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 21  
  
Gwen stood by the aft windows in the Captain's cabin of the Vixen, and watched while the port of Nassau slipped away. Reynard had locked her in here rather than her own cabin, saying they'd only be in port a couple of hours. Indeed, they'd been there just over two hours when they weighed anchor. Only a few members of the crew had gone ashore. Gwen fervently hoped that Annamaria, Elizabeth and Antonia were safe. Reynard seemed to underestimate their abilities. She hoped he would continue to do so. Gwen knew that if it were possible the three women would find their way free. The question was, would it be possible?  
  
As for herself, Gwen no longer knew what to do. She wasn't going to be able to keep Reynard at arms' length much longer. Indeed, she only had his word that the other women would be sent safe back to Port Royal, and she didn't particularly trust his word.  
  
The door opened and Reynard came in. "Hello, my dear. I'm sorry you weren't able to visit the town, but we have to get going to our next destination."  
  
Gwen shrugged. "No matter. Where are the three other women?"  
  
Reynard raised his eyebrows. "Why should you care? I understood that you and Miss Simone had words the other day."  
  
Gwen smiled mockingly. "Annamaria and I have words on a regular basis, Captain Reynard. She's a prickly sort, as you no doubt noticed. Besides, I have no quarrel with Mrs. Turner and Miss Swann."  
  
Reynard lounged in a chair. "They're safe in Nassau."  
  
"Where?" Gwen asked dryly. "Another brothel?"  
  
"Aye, as a matter of fact," said Reynard. "A much higher class one this time."  
  
"I trust they're there only as a place to stay for a while?"  
  
"Indeed," he retorted, with a wounded look on his face. "Did I not promise you they would be unmolested?"  
  
"Is your promise any good?"  
  
"Why Gwen, darling. You've cut me to the quick," he said with a false look of sorrow. He rose and went to her, backing her against the wall and tipping her chin up. "I can't imagine why you don't trust me."  
  
"Can't you?" She jerked her chin out of his hand and tried to sidle past him.  
  
He stepped in front of her again and cupped his hand around the nap of her neck. "For fulfilling our bargain to this point, I expect an installment." He lowered his head and kissed her. She tried to pull away, but he threaded his fingers through her hair and held her steady.  
  
When he at last raised his head she glared at him. "Satisfied for the moment?" Gwen asked bitterly.  
  
"Not at all, my sweet," he murmured and lowered his head again. This time Gwen managed to duck away. She made for the door, hoping to escape, but he caught her arm before she could. "When will you be prepared to uphold your end of the bargain, luv?" Reynard asked sharply.  
  
"When I've proof that those three women are safe in Port Royal," she returned, jerking her arm from his grasp. "And not before." Turning on her heel, she fled from the cabin, shutting the door in his face.  
  
--  
  
At a small dock at the edge of the waterfront, Annamaria spotted a small, one masted fishing boat. It wasn't that dissimilar from the one Jack had stolen from her three years ago. One he'd never made good on, come to think of it. Following her whispered instructions, the other three women crept aboard and covered themselves with a fishnet that had been sitting in the boat. Carefully, Annamaria stuffed her hair into a straw hat that had been left aboard, shoved the boat from the dock and raised the sail. "The Vixen isn't in harbor," she reported. "They've already gone."  
  
"What do we do now?" Elizabeth asked from her hiding place.  
  
"For now just stay down," Anna instructed. "None of you look the least bit like sailors. We don't want to attract any attention."  
  
--  
  
The Black Pearl was within hours of Nassau. Jack was at the helm, scanning the sea before him. Will was pacing the deck. Jack was quite sure that the young man would wear a trench in the planking before long. Joseph was sitting on a coil of rope, smoothing out a knick in his sword blade with a whetstone.  
  
Norrington stood beside him, fidgeting with his telescope. "What will you do if you see the Vixen?"  
  
Jack spared him a glance. "From all reports she's smaller than we are. We'll take her, of course."  
  
"And if she won't heave to?"  
  
"Then I'll follow her. She has to stop sometime." His glance was hard and cold; there was no trace of the slightly tipsy geniality that often dwelt on his face.  
  
Below them on the deck, Will stopped pacing, took Joseph's sword and stone away from him and started sharpening with a vengeance. Norrington allowed himself a wry smile. At the rate Turner was going, by the time he was done Joseph was going to be able to shave with that blade. Joseph apparently thought so too. He came up the stairs to the quarterdeck. "Begging your pardon, Captain, Commodore, but Mr. Turner is in an industrious mood. Do either of you wish to have your sword seen to?"  
  
Jack immediately slipped his sword belt over his head and handed it to Joseph. "By all means. For God's sake keep him busy, Joseph, before he drives us all insane."  
  
"Aye, Cap'n," said Joseph with a grin. "It's what I'm trying to do."  
  
Norrington slipped off his baldric as well and handed it over. "If he finishes with these, Joseph, you might want to start rounding up weapons from the rest of the crew."  
  
Joseph looked down at Will. "I may have to."  
  
--  
  
Captain Hale was managing to keep the Black Pearl in sight, but it wasn't easy. How the devil did Sparrow get that big ship to go that fast? His own ship, the Sandpiper, was considered in some circles to be one of the faster smuggler's sloops in the area, but it was nothing to what the Pearl was able to do. He glanced over at Lt. Markson, who was securing some lines. Fine man, Markson. Not nearly as starched up as some of those military types. If Hale had to have dealings with the military at least he'd ended up with a decent chap.  
  
--  
  
"You can come out now," Annamaria said. "We're clear of the harbor."  
  
Thankfully, the other women pushed the netting aside and sat up. "Now what are we going to do?" Antonia asked.  
  
"I'm not entirely sure," admitted Annamaria. "Make for the next closest island, maybe?"  
  
Elizabeth nodded. "That would probably be the best thing. We don't have any supplies, so we can't stay out here for too long." She pulled out the purse Anna had stolen from Jeannine's client and examined the contents. "There's enough here to purchase some basic necessities anyway."  
  
"Then I propose we put in at the nearest reasonably sized town, and pick up enough supplies to carry us while we try and find the island that Reynard is headed toward," Antonia said.  
  
"Don't you want to head straight back to Port Royal?" Annamaria asked  
  
"Not without Gwen," Antonia answered with a cool look.  
  
Annamaria regarded her with approval. "All right, Tonia, we try and rescue Gwen."  
  
"I wish we knew where the Pearl was, and how to get in touch with her," said Elizabeth. "I hate to think of them sailing into a trap."  
  
Throughout this exchange, Jeannine sat quietly, saying nothing. Elizabeth looked over at her. "Tell me, Jeannine," she said. "How did you come to be in that brothel?"  
  
"My ship was captured by pirates," she answered. "They took me captive, then sold me to that woman."  
  
Annamaria frowned. "Were you on the ship alone?"  
  
Jeannine dropped her eyes. "No. My brother was with me. I have no idea what happened to him." She went on. "My father worked as an overseer of a sugar plantation in Martinique. He died last month. My brother took over his position, but requested permission to escort me to New Orleans to live with my aunt." She raised her eyes. "Thank you for rescuing me from that place."  
  
"You're welcome," Antonia said.  
  
"The only trouble with rescuing people," Annamaria pointed out, "is that then you have to figure out what to do with them afterward."  
  
"Relax, Anna," said Elizabeth. "I'm sure that between Antonia and I, we can arrange passage to either New Orleans or Martinique for her."  
  
"But what until then?" Annamaria asked. "We're planning on trying to rescue Gwen. We don't need to be dragging this chit along with us."  
  
"You needn't speak of me as if I wasn't here," said Jeannine, a flush rising in her cheeks. "I don't understand what you are planning to do, but I promise that I will do whatever I can to help, or to stay out of the way if you prefer."  
  
"Don't worry about her," Antonia confided, jerking her head at Annamaria. "She gets irritable. You have to learn to ignore her moods."  
  
Annamaria glared at Antonia, then turned her gaze at Jeannine. "You said your father was an overseer?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Anna turned her eyes back to the sea ahead. "Well at least you aren't a noblewoman. I've had quite enough of noblewomen."  
  
--  
  
Author's Note** Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far, especially Ember, Eledhwen, Erin, Poppy Brook, TexasKH, and Kirsten who have signed in multiple times. I really appreciate it! It's thrilling for me to know that people are actually READING this. As always, compliments are gladly accepted and constructive criticism is gratefully accepted. 


	22. Chapter 22

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 22  
  
Gwen stayed in her cabin as long as she could stand to, trying to avoid Reynard. Finally hunger drove her out. Rather than dine in the Captain's cabin, she slipped down to the galley and charmed the cook into giving her some bread and hard cheese. Taking these provisions with her, she found a spot near the bow where she could eat in relative privacy. If she knew Annamaria, Elizabeth and Antonia, they were working on a way to escape from wherever Reynard had left them. Hopefully, they'd already done so. Many people, men especially, underestimated those three. Yes, Anna's courage and skill at sailing and at arms was well known, but men still tended to belittle her efforts. More fool them! Elizabeth was extremely clever. Her quick wit rivaled Jack's, Gwen thought, and her courage was the equal of anyone Gwen had ever met. Antonia was even more of a surprise to most people. She looked like nothing more than a beautifully frivolous lady, unused to dealing with anything more taxing than ordering the carriage to pay a call on a neighbor. There was more to Tonia than that, Gwen knew. Was she up to this situation? Hopefully, Gwen thought, both she and Antonia would live long enough to find out.  
  
--  
  
The Black Pearl dropped anchor in the harbor at Nassau. They were a bit further out than necessary, but Jack wanted to be sure that any ship that left the harbor had to pass them in order to reach the open sea. Scanning the ships lying at anchor closer to the shore he saw a couple that might be the Vixen, but since he'd never seen her with his own eyes, it was difficult to be sure. He'd need to ask questions in town.  
  
--  
  
Ralf huddled in a corner of the seedy tavern. He wasn't sure what to do now. He'd taken the opportunity to leave the Vixen secretly, slipping overboard when no one was looking and swimming to shore. Obviously he hadn't been able to slip ashore completely unnoticed – it had after all been broad daylight in a busy port – but he was hoping that no one on the Vixen realized he was gone. If he was fortunate, he hadn't been missed until the ship was back out to sea. He supposed he should try and find another ship to sign onto. A lot of the ships in harbor were pirate ships, but some of them must be merchants. After all, some merchants must come to buy the pirate booty. He'd check some of them out. He'd had enough of pirates. The coins in his purse would last for a few days anyway.  
  
As he sat there, sipping his ale, a group of men came in and sat at a table not far away from him. He listened idly to their conversation, which appeared to consist of giving one of them grief over a girl he'd tried to bed. The man in question wasn't taking the abuse from his friend very well and was getting surlier and surlier. The story was amusing. Apparently the man, Captain Arnault, they called him, had been found shackled to a bed in a brothel room, gagged with his own sash. Ralf snickered quietly into his ale. Sounds like some woman hadn't appreciated the man's charms!  
  
"I could handle the woman," Arnault snarled in his own defense. "But how was I to know the other one would sneak up behind me and knock me on the head? Who would expect that?"  
  
"Aye," agreed one of Arnault's companions. "Madame Carlotta was livid. Apparently she'd just bought those three girls this morning, and the first thing they do is knock you over the head and take off. Took another girl with them as well – Madame Carlotta found one of her other customers trussed up like a chicken in the next room, and that girl gone as well."  
  
Three girls bought that morning? Ralf listened intently. Could it have been the three girls they'd kidnapped from Port Royal?  
  
"Well, if I ever see Annamaria Simone again, I'll show her what she missed this time," vowed Arnault.  
  
"You may have the opportunity," said one of the men, looking out the grimy window that overlooked the harbor. "For it looks like the Black Pearl just came into port."  
  
Ralf started violently, and tried to cover up the motion by lifting his tankard and taking another drink. The Black Pearl! They were the same women! He was vaguely aware of Arnault hastily vacating the tavern, muttering something about seeing to his ship. The other men were laughing. Ralf thought hard. What should he do? Is this a tale he should bring to Captain Jack Sparrow? What would happen to him if he did? Then he thought of the kindness shown to him by Mrs. Sparrow. How could he not?  
  
--  
  
Annamaria snarled another curse in Spanish. "Do you curse in French too?" asked Antonia acidly. In answer Annamaria spat out another explicative, this time in French. "That's better," said Tonia complacently. "That time I couldn't understand it."  
  
"Jeannine did though," said Elizabeth, glancing over at the slightly shocked face of the other girl. "Maybe you should try Dutch, Anna."  
  
"If you're done commenting on my language," Annamaria snapped, "you could get back under that fishnet. We're going to come closer to that sloop than I was hoping for."  
  
Immediately the other three girls flipped the net over themselves. Elizabeth peered through it and looked ahead at the sloop approaching them. "It's not a danger, is it?"  
  
Anna hastily restuffed her hair under the purloined hat. "Probably not, but it's best not to take chances."  
  
--  
  
Markson and Hale stood side-by-side looking toward New Providence. They'd lost sight of the Pearl about an hour ago. Probably she'd made Nassau by now. Idly Markson watched the progress of a small fishing boat ahead and to the port side of the Sandpiper. It seemed to be crewed by one person, a slim figure wearing a straw hat and a white shirt. Funny about that figure. Why did it look wrong? Curious, Markson got out his telescope and trained it on the approaching boat. He watched for several minutes trying to work out what about the figure didn't look right. Then a gust of wind flattened the figure's shirt against him. Suddenly Markson gasped. It was a woman! He studied her carefully. The shirt was snowy white and appeared to have lace on the front – that was wrong. What woman who made her living fishing would wear a white lacy shirt out on the ocean? The breeches too, were they satin? Satin? On a fishing boat? Ridiculous! Perplexed he continued to stare. Then another gust of wind lifted the woman's hat and flipped it off, causing her long black hair to tumble around her face and shoulders. Markson started violently and nearly dropped the telescope. "That's Annamaria," he shouted. "That's Annamaria on that boat!"  
  
Hale snatched the telescope out of his hands and trained it on the figure who was now trying to replace her hat and hold the tiller at the same time. "By God, you're right." He turned to shout to the helmsman. "Turn to port! Cut off that boat!"  
  
The four women, who'd been watching the progress of the sloop, saw its the sudden change of direction with sinking hearts. "Why do you think it turned?" Elizabeth asked.  
  
Anna gave up trying to stuff her hair under the hat again and just tossed it into the bottom of the boat. "He must have seen me and realized I'm a woman," she said tensely.  
  
"What are we going to do?" Jeannine asked, horrified.  
  
"I don't know yet," said Anna grimly. "Elizabeth, have that pistol ready."  
  
As they watched, the sloop ran up a white flag. Antonia and Elizabeth exchanged incredulous glances. What could that mean? Did the captain of that sloop merely mean to talk to them? Then they saw the man standing at the bow waving. "Is that Lt. Markson?" Antonia gasped.  
  
"Elizabeth looked sharply. "It is!" She scrambled out from under the net and waved back, followed by Antonia and Jeannine. Whooping and waving, the women watched the sloop approach, then heave to. Annamaria went as close as she dared, then dropped the sail. Within minutes, they were alongside the Sandpiper.  
  
A rope ladder clattered down and Richard Markson's blessedly familiar face looked down at them. "Ladies, well met!" he called. "Come aboard, come aboard." Abandoning their stolen boat without a second look, the four women did so.  
  
Elizabeth was the first one up the ladder and she flung her arms around Markson's neck. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you!" He hugged her back and kissed her cheek. She'd only just pulled away when Antonia repeated the gesture, hugging him soundly. As she stepped away, Markson looked pointedly at Annamaria, who hesitated, then rolled her eyes and hugged him in turn.  
  
Markson sobered abruptly however, when he realized that the fourth woman was not familiar. "Where's Gwen?" He asked it urgently.  
  
"Still aboard the Vixen," Elizabeth answered. "This is Jeannine St. Cyr. She, ah, joined us in Nassau. Jeannine, this is Lieutenant Richard Markson of the Fort Charles garrison in Port Royal."  
  
"At your service, Miss St. Cyr" said Markson, taking Jeannine's hand and bringing it to his lips.  
  
"How do you do, Lieutenant," said Jeannine faintly, pulling her hand away. Although this man appeared to be well known to her companions, she was still uneasy. Was she a captive again?  
  
Captain Hale came up beside the Lieutenant. "Come down to my cabin, ladies. I believe there's much to be discussed."  
  
-- 


	23. Chapter 23

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 23  
  
The small boat reached the dock and Jack, Will, Joseph and Norrington climbed out. Cotton and Davy stayed on the dock. "Stay by the boat, lads," Jack said. "I don't know how long we'll be." He nodded to his three companions. "Gentlemen, let's be off." He spied a likely tavern and headed in that direction, followed by the others.  
  
Soon they were ensconced at a table in a small and dilapidated drinking establishment, waiting for the serving girl to bring them their drinks. As Jack leaned forward to begin speaking, another voice was heard. "Captain Sparrow?"  
  
The four men turned to see a lad of about 17 standing nervously near their table. "Aye," Jack answered. "What can I do for ye?"  
  
The lad glanced nervously at the men, all of whom were staring at him intensely. "Ah, sir, I wanted to talk to you. I, ah, was a sailor on the Vixen..."  
  
"The Vixen!" Will exclaimed, and was silenced by a quick glare from Jack.  
  
Joseph snatched a nearby chair and pulled it toward them. "Sit down, lad," he said quietly. Nervously the boy did so. Joseph hitched his chair closer to the boy's and laid his hand on its back.  
  
Ralf threw a nervous sideways glance at the powerful looking black man, who had, for all intents and purposes, trapped him at this table. "Aye, sir, the Vixen."  
  
Norrington spoke up. "What do you know about the four ladies that were aboard that ship?"  
  
Jack interrupted. "Why don't you start from the beginning, lad. What's your name?"  
  
"Ralf," he replied.  
  
"And you took ship with the Vixen, when?"  
  
Ralf flushed and looked down. "I took ship on her back in England, sir. She was the Lady Fortuna then, and was to be a merchant ship, I suppose." He looked at Jack pleadingly. "I don't think Lord Marlby knew what he was doing with her, but I thought it would be a grand adventure to come to the West Indies, sir, so I signed on."  
  
"And then there was the mutiny, aye?"  
  
"Aye, sir. I wasn't at all sure about that, sir, honest I wasn't, but I didn't know what else to do. All the other hands were going along, and I was afraid not to." He flushed again. "I didn't know Cap'n Reynard would kill Lord Marlby, honest I didn't sir!"  
  
"I'm sure you didn't," soothed Jack. "Then what?"  
  
"Well, Cap'n Reynard changed the name of the ship to the Vixen, and we came here. He was talking about taking revenge on you, sir, and told us all kinds of tales about you. He said you'd shot down his brother in cold blood and that he'd see to it that you got what was coming to you."  
  
Jack spoke calmly. "Well that depends on your point of view, lad, but we'll let that pass. You spent some time in the Bahamas, eh?"  
  
"Aye, sir. We went to several of the different islands, but we didn't stay long at any of them. I think he buried Lord Marlby on one of them, sir, but I'm not sure."  
  
"We found his body on Crooked Island," confirmed Norrington. "Along with the log book from the Lady Fortuna."  
  
Ralf swallowed and nodded. "He said we were pirates now. I didn't start out to be a pirate, sir, I didn't mean to...." He broke off and stared aghast at Jack. "I mean...uh, sir."  
  
"Don't let it worry you, lad," said Jack with amusement. "It's not the life for everyone."  
  
"Well, then we went to Jamaica, sir, and put in at a cove near Port Antonio. Cap'n Reynard and several of the men went off for several days." Ralf went on to explain how the women had arrived at three different times and three different methods. When he spoke of how three of the women had been lodged in the brig, but that Gwen had been given the freedom of the ship, Jack continued to listen with no change of expression. Joseph, however, noted how Jack had gripped his tankard so hard that his knuckles turned white.  
  
"Why was Mrs. Sparrow not locked in the brig with the others?" Joseph asked, almost casually.  
  
Ralf looked at him in confusion. "I'm not sure. I think the Captain might have been sweet on her, though." He looked apprehensively at Jack. "He was always trying to touch her, but she usually pulled away, at least when I saw." He swallowed hard and started again. "She spoke of you to me, sir, when she sewed up my arm," he pushed up his sleeve and showed the neat line of stitches. "She was very kind to me, sir."  
  
"Aye, Mrs. Sparrow is a very kind lady," said Joseph quietly. "Why did you leave the Vixen?"  
  
Ralf shrugged helplessly. "I couldn't stand the thought of what we were doing, sir. I didn't want to be a pirate, and I didn't want to do anything that might hurt some innocent women. I never really saw the other three, but Mrs. Sparrow was so kind – I just didn't want to be involved with anything that might hurt her." He looked at Jack. "I was afraid to let anyone know I wanted to leave, sir, so I just slipped overboard while we were at anchor here and swam ashore. The ship wasn't even here a full day. I hope no one missed me for a while."  
  
Norrington frowned. "Why did the Vixen come here if she wasn't going to remain for even a day?"  
  
Ralf hesitated again. "Three of the women were brought ashore, sir. I found out that he sold them to a brothel."  
  
Will started to his feet, and Norrington clapped a hand on his shoulder and forced him back into his seat. "Which brothel?" Norrington asked, his voice as sharp as a sword.  
  
Ralf looked at Norrington. "I don't know, sir, but I do know that they aren't there anymore."  
  
"How do you know that?" Will asked tensely.  
  
"Earlier today I overheard some men talking. Three women, who had been purchased this morning, overpowered one of them and left him bound and gagged in the room. They disappeared."  
  
Jack leaned over. "Which three women?"  
  
"Not Mrs. Sparrow," Ralf replied. "The other three. Mrs. Sparrow stayed aboard the Vixen."  
  
"Where did the Vixen go next, Ralf?" Jack's eyes glittered like obsidian. "Do you know?"  
  
"Aye, sir," Ralf said nervously, looking around. Joseph transferred his hand from the chair to the boy's shoulder.  
  
"Good." Jack leaned back. "Will and Joseph, you take Ralf here to the boat and ask Cotton and Davy to take him to the Pearl. Tell them to put him in the Captain's cabin and keep him company until we get back. Then start scouring the waterfront. If I know Annamaria, she stole a boat and cleared out of here. Find out if any boats are missing." He turned to Norrington. "James, you and I will be visiting a few brothels. I believe I know which one Reynard would have sold the women to. We'll see if we can find out more."  
  
Ralf stood up sputtering, "But, sir, I.. uh.... but!"  
  
Jack smiled silkily. "Not to worry lad. You'll come to no harm aboard the Pearl."  
  
He tried again, desperately. "I could draw you a map or something, sir!"  
  
"Nay, lad, you'll come with us. I insist."  
  
-- 


	24. Chapter 24

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 24  
  
"I can't thank you enough, Captain, for helping Lt. Markson find us," Antonia said warmly.  
  
"My father will wish to thank you in person, I'm sure," Elizabeth added.  
  
Hale shrugged uncomfortably. "We still need to find Mrs. Sparrow."  
  
"Aye," said Annamaria. She looked at Markson. "Should we go to Nassau to find the Pearl, or should we try and find the island?"  
  
Markson spoke slowly, "I think we should speak to Captain Sparrow before trying to find the island. We may need the strength of the Black Pearl. The Sandpiper would be no match for the Vixen."  
  
"Very well then," Hale said, getting to his feet. "I'll instruct the helmsman to make all speed to Nassau."  
  
--  
  
"There's the Golden Mermaid," Jack said, pointing at the building they were approaching. "It's a fairly high class place – the girls are all young, pretty and clean. Pricey too. The Madame tends to purchase captives from pirates from time to time. It's an easy way to get new stock, so to speak."  
  
Norrington glared at him. "I can't believe you're speaking of this so matter-of-factly, Sparrow. We're talking about innocent women here!"  
  
Jack paused and turned to Norrington. "What would you have me do, James? Rant and rave and froth at the mouth? Sorry I can't oblige you. I haven't time for a display of madness just at the moment." Norrington snarled an oath under his breath and continued walking. Jack fell into step with him again. "Is Antonia a virgin?" He asked it in a conversational way.  
  
Norrington stopped abruptly and stared at Jack in astonishment. "What possible reason could you have for asking me something like that!" Norrington sputtered.  
  
Jack put his hand placating on Norrington's arm. "Easy, man. I'm not trying to poke into your personal business, though if you want to talk about it, I'm all ears." He grinned wickedly. "No, I'm asking because making, uh, an appointment with a virgin costs a great deal. Madame Carlotta tends to save them for special clients. If Antonia is, uh, untouched, it's likely she hadn't been molested before the girls escaped."  
  
Norrington shook off Jack's hand. "She is," he said curtly.  
  
"Good," said Jack cheekily. "Here's to hoping she remains so until next you see her. Quite a tidy little armful, she is."  
  
"May I remind you, you're speaking of my fiancée," Norrington snapped.  
  
"Not to worry, mate, I'm a happily married man." Jack shot Norrington an amused look out of the corner of his eye, then opened the door and let himself into the brothel. Fuming, Norrington followed. The lobby of the Golden Mermaid opened up into a large parlor, lavishly furnished in red and gold. A very pretty young woman in a revealing gown lounged on a velvet sofa, pouting coquettishly at a well-dressed man.  
  
"May I help you, gentlemen?" A voice purred behind them. Turning, Jack and Norrington saw a lovely blond girl in a clinging silk gown crossing the floor toward them.  
  
"I'd like to speak to Madame Carlotta, please," Jack said, smiling charmingly at her.  
  
The girl leaned against his arm and stroked her hand down his chest. "Madame Carlotta? Oh, she's in her office, I think. Do you have an appointment?"  
  
Jack's arm stole around the girl and gave her waist a squeeze. "Not yet, luv. What's your name?"  
  
"Isobel," she answered, smiling seductively up at him.  
  
Jack freed himself from her and started toward the office, which now had a stout woman with unnaturally red hair standing in the doorway. "I'll remember that, luv," he promised. "James," he said sharply, jerking his head toward the office door. Norrington tore his gaze away from Isobel's rather obviously displayed attributes and followed Jack, flushing slightly.  
  
"Ah, Madame Carlotta," Jack said, bowing elaborately. "A pleasure to see you again."  
  
Madame Carlotta regarded him with narrowed eyes. "I haven't seen you in quite some time, Captain Sparrow." Was there a hint of uneasiness in her face?"  
  
Jack strolled into the office just ahead of Norrington and waited while Madame Carlotta shut the door. "Ah, well. A married man hasn't the same opportunities to visit establishments such as yours, Madame."  
  
She looked amused. "I can't think why. Many of my clients are married men."  
  
"Aye, I'm sure they are." The amused, slightly tipsy look seemed to drain out of him then. "Am I correct in understanding that you purchased three women from Reynard the Fox?"  
  
Her eyes narrowed even further, and she sat down behind her desk with great deliberation. "Yes. A business transaction."  
  
"Am I to understand that one of them was me second mate, Annamaria Simone?"  
  
"How was I to know that you hadn't thrown her off your ship yourself, Captain?" Madame Carlotta asked silkily. "Perhaps your wife tired of having your doxy aboard?"  
  
A muscle twitched in Jack's jaw, but he ignored the last part of Madame's question. "I would never countenance any woman of my acquaintance being forced into prostitution, Madame. Keep that in mind, aye? If I find out you did any more than kept them here while awaiting an opportunity to send me a message, I will be most severely displeased."  
  
Madame Carlotta said, "My business does not rise and fall with your displeasure, Captain." Still, she looked decidedly uneasy.  
  
Jack settled into a chair and leaned back comfortably. "Of course not, Madame. But don't cross me, luv. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry. Now, tell me what happened to Miss Simone, Miss Swann and Mrs. Turner, will you?" He opened up his purse and laid a gold coin on the desk.  
  
"What do you want to know?" She eyes the coin speculatively.  
  
Jack examined his fingernails. "I understand that one of these three ladies overpowered a client and escaped. Am I correct?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Which one?"  
  
"Annamaria Simone. I honestly don't know how she did it. Captain Arnault was found later shackled with the same irons that Annamaria had on earlier."  
  
"Arnault, eh?" The muscle in Jack's jaw twitched again.  
  
"Yes, Arnault. He said something about someone hitting him on the head from behind. But the other two were locked up, so I don't know how that could be."  
  
"So all three girls are gone, eh?"  
  
"Yes, along with another who had been entertaining a client a few doors down."  
  
"Really?" Jack looked politely surprised. "How did that happen?"  
  
"That client told me that the three came through the door, held a gun on him, then tied him up, gagged him and stole his purse."  
  
"Describe that chit to me."  
  
Madame Carlotta shrugged. "Brown hair and blue eyes. About 17 or 18. Very pretty in an unobtrusive way. French, name of Jeannine."  
  
"Very enterprising young women," Jack said thoughtfully. He opened his purse again and took out several more coins. "I'm sure that you'll be willing to keep your ears open for anything else you may hear about these ladies, eh? I would be happy to reimburse you for your trouble." He rose and leaned over the desk, his face very close to hers as he set the coins in a neat stack on the desk. "And I'm quite certain I won't hear of any of these girls suffering any abuse at your hands ever again, will I now?"  
  
Madame Carlotta looked up at the dark, uncompromising face looming over her, and swallowed hard. "No, Captain Sparrow. You will not."  
  
Jack straightened up, his affable grin back in place. "A pleasure to do business with you, Madame. Shall we go, James? Or did you want to take time for an appointment with Isobel?" Norrington shot Jack a look that would have incinerated stone and strode out of the office. Unperturbed, Jack bowed again to Madame Carlotta, and swaggered out.  
  
-- 


	25. Chapter 25

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 25  
  
The four men met back where they'd left the boat. Cotton and Davy had returned for them, after entrusting Ralf into the care of two of the other crewmembers. Joseph spoke as soon as Jack and Norrington came within earshot. "There's a small fishing boat missing from the far end of the waterfront, Captain. It was stolen a couple of hours after Ralf thinks the women escaped."  
  
"Did anyone see who stole it?"  
  
"Aye, an older gent saw a couple of girls in fancy dresses aboard, as well as a black boy who was sailing it. Could be the 'boy' was actually Annamaria, sir."  
  
Will said, "I can't imagine why else a couple of women in fancy dresses would board a fishing boat, Jack. It must be them."  
  
"Aye, I agree. Let's get back to the Pearl, gentlemen," Jack ordered. He glanced at the sun, which was sinking toward the horizon. "We've a few hours before sunset."  
  
--  
  
The Sandpiper cut through the waves sharply, Captain Hale at the helm. Elizabeth and Antonia stood near the bow, clinging to the rigging and laughing with delight. Markson kept an eye on the Sandpiper's crew, who were spending a bit more time gawking at the two gorgeous ladies in the revealing gowns than paying attention to their duties. Annamaria stood near Hale and glared at any seaman who had the temerity to do more than glance in her direction.  
  
"Lieutenant?" A softly spoken word had Markson turning to see the fourth girl, Jeannine, standing at his elbow.  
  
Markson smiled. "What can I do for you, Miss St. Cyr?" He kept his eyes on her face, not allowing his gaze to wander toward the low-cut bodice of her bright blue gown. Not that her face was difficult to look at. While not a dramatic beauty like either Elizabeth or Antonia, Jeannine's soft blue eyes, sun streaked brown hair and gentle features were well worth a look.  
  
"Sir, I don't mean to bother you, but I'm not sure of what's happening. Why are we returning to Nassau?"  
  
"How much do you know about the ladies who helped you escape from the brothel, miss?"  
  
Jeannine smiled uncertainly. "Not much, really. I'm not even sure why they rescued me. Just that Annamaria didn't want to."  
  
Markson laughed. "Anna has spent much of her life as a pirate. She dislikes being sidetracked. She's practical, realistic and not terribly compassionate. But she's not unfeeling, Miss St. Cyr. She'll defend those she cares about to the death. Because of that, however, she's very careful about who she cares about."  
  
"She's a pirate?"  
  
Markson smiled. "Privateer now. She's the second mate aboard the Black Pearl. Two years ago Captain Sparrow accepted letter of marque and became a privateer."  
  
"So how does the second mate of a privateer ship become so well acquainted with the daughter and niece of the Governor of Jamaica?"  
  
Markson smiled. "Let me tell you a story, Miss St. Cyr."  
  
--  
  
Will's first though upon entering the Captain's cabin was the Ralf looked thoroughly miserable. "Captain Sparrow," he began as the other men followed Will into the room. "Captain, you don't understand what Captain Reynard will do to me if he finds out I've helped you! You must let me go!"  
  
Jack poured two glasses of rum and set one on the table in front of Ralf. "I do know, lad." He looked at Ralf with amused compassion in his eyes. "He'll do you one worse than he did Lord Marlby. I'm well aware of it."  
  
Will looked puzzled. "But Reynard killed Marlby. What could be worse..."  
  
"There's death and then there's death, Will," Norrington interrupted. "Quick and clean or long and lingering."  
  
Will flushed a bit. "You're right, Commodore. I wasn't thinking."  
  
"Commodore?" If anything Ralf looked even paler. "You're Commodore Norrington?"  
  
Norrington frowned. "Yes."  
  
"Please don't have me hung, sir! I didn't want to be a pirate!" Ralf begged.  
  
"Relax, Ralf," Will said. "The Commodore has no intention of hanging you." He turned to Norrington. "Do you?"  
  
"Certainly not," Norrington confirmed. "You were coerced into piracy by an unprincipled rogue. And you are nobly attempting to aid the rescue attempt of four innocent women." Ralf sat back looking slightly more at ease, but not much.  
  
Jack rolled his eyes behind Norrington's head, then rummaged in a drawer and pulled out a pile of charts. Sorting through them, he laid one on the table. "Care to point out where we're going, lad?  
  
Ralf studied the chart and tapped an island shown just south of New Providence. "Here." He looked up, his eyes pleading. "Please, sir? You know where to go now."  
  
"Lad, you're coming with us. I may need you yet." Jack studied the little island Ralf had pointed out. "I apologize, but since you have a tendency to jump ship, I'll have to lock you up." He tossed a set of keys to Joseph. "The brig, Joseph, but make it as comfortable as you can. Ralf will be allowed liberty of the ship if he is escorted by yourself or someone you designate." He looked at Ralf, who rose to his feet mutely. "If you can think of anything that may help me defeat Reynard, be sure to tell me, lad. For you see, if Reynard kills me and takes the Pearl, he'll be able to get his hands on you. However, if we take him, then you will go free as a bird when we've concluded our business, with," he added, "appropriate representations of our gratitude."  
  
Will watched Joseph escort Ralf out the door. "The brig, Jack?"  
  
Jack shrugged. "It won't hurt him. I can't take the chance of him jumping overboard again."  
  
Norrington shrugged. "Necessary." He got to his feet. "I believe it's my watch, Sparrow? Allow me to take my leave."  
  
--  
  
The sun was just settling on the surface of the water when the lookout of the Black Pearl caught sight of the small sloop headed their way. "Sails dead ahead!"  
  
Norrington was at the helm, and he pulled out his telescope. "Looks like the Sandpiper," he said to Will who was hovering nearby.  
  
"No sign of the women?" Will asked anxiously.  
  
"Not yet," Norrington answered. He took another look through the telescope. His thoughtful frown lightened to what on another man could be mistaken for a happy grin. Will stared at him incredulously. Norrington? A happy grin? Norrington turned to see the expression on Will's face. "Here," he said. "You look."  
  
Will shot Norrington a puzzled look, then took the telescope and sighted down it. A welcome sight met his eye. Standing at the bow of the sloop stood a tall, black haired lady in a black dress. Next to her stood a woman in a green dress, her honey blond hair whipping in the wind. Will whooped in delight.  
  
-- 


	26. Chapter 26

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 26  
  
It seemed to take forever for the Sandpiper's crew to make the sloop fast to the side of the Pearl. The ladder was flung down and Elizabeth hiked her skirts up to her knees and climbed as fast as she could, Antonia and Annamaria hot on her heels. Hands gripped her shoulders as she came to the top, and she was half dragged across the Pearl's rail and into the embrace of the man she loved more than anything else. "Oh my God, Elizabeth! I was afraid I'd lost you," Will breathed into her hair as he held her so close she could scarcely breathe.  
  
Other reunions were happening on that deck. Like Will, Norrington had pulled Antonia over the rail and directly into his arms. Joseph stood back and allowed Annamaria to climb over by herself. Those watching had no doubt, however, at the warmth of their affection when she crossed to him and walked into his embrace.  
  
Jack lifted a sardonic eyebrow and sighed. "Don't suppose we'll get anything useful out of them for a while yet," he said to Lt. Markson and Captain Hale, who had followed the women aboard.  
  
Markson just grinned. "I can give you the highlights, sir," he said.  
  
"Come down to my cabin then lad," he said. "Captain Hale, have you time for a drink?"  
  
"I can spare a few minutes, I believe," Hale answered.  
  
"Excellent." He turned to the girl standing near the rail. "You must be Jeannine. Come below, lass. No harm will come to you."  
  
--  
  
Norrington escorted Antonia to the cabin he'd been sleeping in. "If you'll give me a moment to collect my gear, love, I'll bunk below with the men. There's bound to be a spare hammock."  
  
Antonia ignored that comment. "Come in James. Talk to me for a while." There was no place to sit except the narrow bunk, so Norrington settled gingerly on one end of it. Antonia sat on the other. "I've missed you," she said.  
  
Norrington ducked his head. "Oh, Tonia," he said taking her hand. "I was afraid I'd never see you again." He kissed her fingers, then held her hand in both of his. "Are you truly all right, darling? Did anyone hurt you?"  
  
"No, I'm all right." She put her other hand to her bodice. "This dress, you must be wondering ..."  
  
"It certainly isn't your usual style," he interrupted, "Black silk and red lace?"  
  
She smiled a little and looked down. "I know, it's awful." She looked up again. "James.."  
  
He lifted a hand to stop her. "Antonia, I know that Reynard sold you to that brothel. Sparrow and I went there."  
  
"You did?"  
  
"Yes. Tonia, did anything happen to you there? Please don't be afraid to tell me."  
  
Antonia smiled. "No, nothing happened to me. I suppose if we'd been there longer, but as it was Annamaria was the only one in any danger, and Elizabeth and I rescued her before... well, before." Antonia's cheeks went pink.  
  
Norrington smiled in relief. "You rescued Annamaria?"  
  
Antonia smiled impishly. "Anna taught me how to pick locks with a hairpin. I unlocked the door and Elizabeth hit the man over the head with his own pistol."  
  
He pulled her to him and rested her head on his chest. "Thank heavens."  
  
After a moment Antonia spoke again. "James?"  
  
"Hmmmm?"  
  
"James, it isn't necessary for you to bunk with the men. Stay here with me."  
  
"Darling, we aren't married yet."  
  
She pulled back and looked him in the eye. "Does that mean that if I give myself to you without benefit of marriage you'll feel you don't need to marry me after all?"  
  
"Of course I'll still want to marry you!"  
  
"All right then." She pulled his head down and kissed him lingeringly. "Stay."  
  
--  
  
The night was quiet and still as Jack strolled the deck of the Black Pearl. Not wanting to proceed to Reynard's island in the dark, and before they'd come up with a plan, they'd dropped anchor and sails, and remained where they were. A hundred yards off the Pearl's starboard rail lay the Sandpiper, also riding at anchor. Markson and Hale had returned there earlier. Jack expected them again in the morning for consultation on what to do next. What Jack hoped to be able to do was to put Elizabeth and Antonia aboard the Sandpiper and send them post haste to a safe location to await them. He doubted, however, that it would be possible. Sure that it would come up in conversation tomorrow, though, he was quite looking forward to the argument. Norrington and Will would both be fit to be tied.  
  
Hands behind his back, Jack continued his walk, absently noting things that would need attention. One of the sails had a small tear in it. A few ropes needed to be replaced. Whoever swabbed the deck last hadn't done a particularly good job. Jack made a mental note to speak to Gibbs about it. The worn heels of his boots scuffed softly on the planking. It was a bit odd, really. He was alone, when passionate reunions were no doubt going on at this moment in three of the Pearl's cabins. For all Norrington's protestations of Antonia's virginity, he still hadn't come out of there yet. Jack snickered quietly. So much for chastity. He felt very strange. Almost...lonely. Will, Joseph and Norrington were presently with the ladies they adored, and Captain Jack Sparrow was walking the decks alone. He stopped and leaned against the rail, watching the moon glitter on the water. Lonely. For so many years he'd had nothing but the hope of regaining his ship. Now he had her, firm in his hands. Odd now, that it wasn't enough. Oh, he was sure if he had to he'd get used to it again. Or at least he hoped so. He shrugged and continued his walk. Not that it mattered. If he didn't manage to rescue Gwen, it would probably be because he was dead.  
  
"Jack."  
  
He spun around at the sound of his name to see a female figure standing several feet away. "Elizabeth," he said with surprise. "Does your husband know you're wandering around the ship in the middle of the night wearing," he noted her apparel, "his clothes?"  
  
Elizabeth smiled and ran a hand across the waist of the tan breeches that Will had been wearing earlier that day. She walked closer to Jack, her bare feet making no sound on the deck. "He's sleeping."  
  
"So why aren't you?"  
  
Elizabeth leaned on the rail next to Jack. "I was awake, and I knew you would be too, so I came up to talk to you."  
  
"How did you know that?"  
  
Elizabeth smiled. "I'm safe, Antonia's safe, Annamaria's safe. Gwen's not. I knew you'd be awake." After a moment's pause she asked, "Did Richard tell you where we escaped from?"  
  
Jack shrugged. "I already knew. We picked up an escapee from the Vixen, who told us that Reynard had sold the three of you to the Golden Mermaid." He grinned, his gold teeth glinting in the moonlight. "Norrington and I went there and got the whole story from the Madame. Very enterprising of you three. I'm impressed."  
  
Elizabeth didn't smile. "Did he tell you that Gwen wasn't kept locked up with us aboard ship?"  
  
Jack's grin disappeared and he turned to face the sea again. "Aye."  
  
Elizabeth went on, although Jack's body language had suddenly become forbidding. "She told me Reynard was obsessed with you. He kept talking of you, asking her questions. She put him off as best she could. She said he couldn't understand why you would marry her. Couldn't understand why you would marry anyone really, but especially her."  
  
"Because she isn't as beautiful as you or Antonia?" Jack smirked humorlessly. "She is to me." After another pause he asked, "Is she his mistress now?"  
  
Elizabeth sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I don't know, Jack. She planned to try and convince him that she might become so, but keep him at arms length as long as she could. She hoped she could trade the promise of herself in return for the safety of the three of us."  
  
Jack cocked an eyebrow. "She know that you were sold to that brothel?"  
  
"I have no idea. She came down to see us once, but Reynard had sent a guard with her." Elizabeth told him of the bizarre conversation Gwen had had with Annamaria.  
  
Despite his black mood, Jack had to laugh. "She actually said 'shiver me timbers'?"  
  
Elizabeth laughed as well. "Even if I hadn't known she was quoting the parrot, I'd have known something was up." Elizabeth sobered. "She came down once again, briefly, to give us the hairpins we used to pick the locks at the brothel and to tell us we were headed for Nassau. After that I didn't see her again."  
  
They stood silently for a while, side by side, staring at the water silvered by the moonlight. "Jack," Elizabeth began. "What will you do if Gwen hasn't managed to keep Reynard away from her?"  
  
He sighed. "I haven't the slightest."  
  
"Jack," Elizabeth stepped closer and laid a hand on his arm. "Gwen loves you. Nothing Reynard forces her to do will change that. You know that don't you?" When he said nothing she tried again. "We escaped the brothel before anyone of us were used in any way, though it was a close call for Anna. If we hadn't, would you be advising Will, James and Joseph to put us aside?"  
  
Jack frowned, "No, of course not."  
  
"You see? Gwen will hold him off if she can. If she can't, then don't turn away from her, Jack. You told me once that you admired someone who would do whatever it takes."  
  
Jack turned to look her directly in the face. "Back when you and I were marooned together, if it would have made a difference in whether or not you were able to rescue Will, would you have slept with me?"  
  
Elizabeth regarded him evenly. "Yes."  
  
"Even though you loved Will?"  
  
"Yes," she answered steadily. "He might not have forgiven me, but I'd have done it anyway." She leaned closer. "I'd had slept with Barbossa if necessary."  
  
"Oh Lord, darling! Now you're turning me stomach." Jack shook his head, trying to dislodge the image of the old cursed captain and the young, beautiful girl.  
  
Elizabeth shuddered. "It rather turns my own. I'm very glad it wasn't necessary."  
  
Jack looked at her again. "So you were clever enough to save yourself for your Will."  
  
"I was. Gwen is just as clever, Jack. She'll do her best to find a way. Believe that, but don't blame her if she can't."  
  
"I could stand it if she had no other choice," said Jack slowly, "It's the thought that she might go willingly which is killing me."  
  
Elizabeth was silent for a moment. "You're lucky it's me talking to you instead of Annamaria. She'd slap you silly for that remark. Jack, you know better than that. She loves you. You're letting your fears get the better of you."  
  
Jack leaned over, put an arm around her waist and kissed her on the cheek. "Does your husband know what a treasure he has?"  
  
"He does."  
  
At the sound of Will's voice, Jack and Elizabeth turned in surprise. Like his wife, Will was clad only in breeches and a shirt. He had, Jack saw with approval, slung his swordbelt over his shoulder. They'd make a pirate of the man yet. Will yawned, ambled forward and delivered a light punch on the arm which was still around Elizabeth's waist. "Unhand my wife, you blackguard."  
  
Jack squeezed Elizabeth's waist a last time then dropped the arm. "But of course, sir. Going to call me out?"  
  
Will yawned again and put his arm around Elizabeth's shoulders. "No, too tired. Go to bed, Jack. We've got to go save your wife in the morning."  
  
Elizabeth glanced back over Will's shoulder. "Goodnight, Jack."  
  
Jack folded his arms, leaned back against the rail and watched the Turners disappear below. Aye, time to go to bed.  
  
-- 


	27. Chapter 27

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 27  
  
Ralf sat in a corner of the Captain's cabin of the Black Pearl the next morning, his brain whirling with confusion. Joseph had brought him up here several minutes earlier telling him that they'd need to talk to him about the Vixen and Reynard in order to make plans. So far, though, everyone was too busy arguing to pay attention to him. Three gorgeous ladies sat calmly at the table. One, a lovely black haired girl wearing an almost indecently low cut black gown with red lace was pouring tea. Tea? On a pirate ship? The other, a beautiful honey blond was spreading jam on toast. She was wearing a man's pair of breeches and a shirt, her bare feet tucked decorously under her chair. The third, a smaller girl with dark brown hair, seemed to be trying not to be noticed. The Commodore was furious, his face hard and his voice loud. The object of his wrath, the black haired girl, was unmoved.  
  
"Antonia, this is for your own safety!"  
  
"I understand that. I also understand that my very good friend is in trouble, and I want to help save her."  
  
"I order to stay behind!"  
  
"I'm not one of your soldiers and you can't order me to do anything."  
  
"I'm your husband!"  
  
"No you're not. We're not married yet."  
  
"Merely a technicality!"  
  
"Technicality or not," said Antonia calmly, "we're not yet married. Although if I'd known what sleeping with a man was like, I'd have insisted on a shorter engagement." Norrington's face flamed, Will choked on his tea and Jack hastily turned a laugh into a cough. Annamaria was not so restrained. She leaned against the wall and laughed helplessly. "In fact," Antonia ignoring the reactions of the others in the room, "in the absence of my uncle, my guardian is probably my cousin. Right Elizabeth?"  
  
"Hmmm," said Elizabeth, "Your closest male relative is your cousin's husband. Will, what do you think?"  
  
"Don't get me into this," Will warned.  
  
Norrington's eyes narrowed. "Fine. Let's just take care of that right now." He grabbed Antonia's hand and pulled her to her feet, ignoring the teacup that was spilled as he did so. "Sparrow, marry us please."  
  
Jack, who had been leaning back with his feet on the table, spewed a mouthful of ale back into his tankard as his boots hit the floor. Coughing and choking he wheezed, "What?" as Gibbs helpfully pounded him on the back.  
  
"You are a ship's captain, are you not?" Norrington asked coolly. "Therefore you must be able to perform marriage ceremonies aboard ship."  
  
"Pirates don't need to get married aboard ship all that often," Jack said indignantly. "I've never done such a thing."  
  
"You do funerals for those of your men who get killed, don't you?"  
  
"Funerals, aye. But weddings?"  
  
"If you can do a funeral, you can do a wedding," Norrington said dismissively.  
  
"It's hardly the same thing!" Elizabeth protested. "You can't expect her to get married this suddenly!"  
  
"Actually, it sounds extremely romantic," said Antonia laughing, "But James, I can't get married in this ridiculous dress. It's black for one thing."  
  
"Absolutely, Miss Swann," said Gibbs. "Very bad luck to be wed in a black gown."  
  
"As to that, lass" Jack said, gesturing to a cupboard built into the wall, "feel free to borrow one of Gwen's gowns. I'm sure she wouldn't mind. But are you sure you want to be married by a pirate captain?"  
  
Antonia put a hand on Jack's shoulder and kissed him on the cheek. "I can't think of anything I'd like better."  
  
Governor Swann would have found much to criticize in the ceremony that took place twenty minutes later on the quarterdeck. Rather than the elite of Jamaican society, the ceremony was witnessed by a group of sailors with questionable pedigrees and less than fashionable dress sense. The matron of honor was not only wearing a pair of men's breeches, but her feet were bare. The bride was wearing a too short slate blue gown instead of white satin. Rather than a respectable clergyman, an eccentric pirate with beads in his beard performed the marriage and needed extensive prompting to make it through the ceremony.  
  
Still, Antonia's smile was radiant, and Norrington's was tender as they took their vows. When Norrington slipped the gold band on Antonia's finger and confessed that he'd been carrying the ring around with him since their disrupted wedding day in hopes of seeing it in it's rightful place, more than one person had to wipe away a surreptitious tear.  
  
--  
  
Gwen sat quietly in a corner of the Captain's cabin aboard the Vixen, embroidering flowers on the edge of a handkerchief. The half done embroidery project had been in the trunk of clothing Gwen had been given. She was finding it very useful as a way to keep her hands and eyes occupied while her ears strained to hear the conversation going on at the table a few feet away. Hopefully it also provided her with a shield. Why was it that men thought that a woman, sitting still and occupied with a household task, was deaf, dumb and blind? Today, however, Gwen could only be thankful for this idiocy.  
  
Reynard was sitting at the table with his officers and a few others. The Vixen lay anchored in a small, somewhat shallow cove. Although there was a wide, sandy beach, the cove could only be reached from the open ocean through a narrow passageway cut into the cliffs. From what Gwen could deduce from the conversation, the Black Pearl would be lured into the passageway, and then trapped in the cove. After preparations for this trap were complete, the Vixen would leave the cove and anchor further down the coast where there was a more hospitable inlet. After the Pearl was lured into the passageway, the Vixen would block her way back to the open ocean, completing the trap. Unable to maneuver in the limited space, the Pearl would be a sitting duck.  
  
Gwen continued to embroider steadily, ignoring the fact that she was using the wrong shade of green for the flower leaves. The men continued to talk, arguing about how to subdue the Pearl's crew. Some of the men favored firing upon the Pearl with the Vixen's guns, but others disagreed. Reynard, especially, didn't want to damage the Black Pearl. He wants to sail it himself, thought Gwen bitterly. Just because it was Jack's. The consensus of the men around the table was that when Jack Sparrow was dead, the majority of the crew would be amenable to a change of leadership. Gwen hid a smile. The crew of the Black Pearl had learned the value of loyalty. Something Reynard the Fox failed to understand.  
  
--  
  
Plans now in place, Jack stood at the helm and guided his ship toward the small island where Reynard the Fox waited to kill him. Jack couldn't wait to see Reynard again. It had, after all, been nearly fifteen years since he'd laid eyes on the bastard. Where he wanted to see him, of course, was on the business end of his sword. Or maybe half way up – he wasn't too picky.  
  
Ralf stood nervously nearby, flanked as always by the tall, quiet Joseph. Ralf had told Jack everything he knew about the trap Reynard was waiting to spring. He hoped it would be enough. The thought of Reynard getting his hands on him made Ralf break out into a cold sweat.  
  
--  
  
Author's note ** I tried to find some documentation of ship's captains performing marriage ceremonies, like in all the Hollywood movies, but I wasn't able to. The best I could find was a marriage ceremony performed in 1843 in Australia by a ship's captain. Fifty years later the couple was told that they weren't really married, so they had another ceremony. I'm not sure where the myth comes from, or when – if ever – ship's captains were allowed to do that sort of thing, but I included it in the story anyway. In the next chapter the characters will talk about the legality (or not) of Norrington and Antonia's wedding. Now days, you can get married in Florida waters by a ship's captain, but you need a marriage license and the captain has to be a notary public. Similarly in Bermuda, the captain aboard a cruise ship can marry you, but you need a license to marry, and the captain needs a license to perform the ceremony. I'd be happy to hear from anyone who knows more about the ship captains performing ceremonies. 


	28. Chapter 28

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 28  
  
Antonia, Elizabeth and Jeannine prowled restlessly around the Captain's cabin of the Black Pearl. "Elizabeth," asked Antonia, "is it legal in the English colonies for a privateer captain to perform a wedding ceremony?"  
  
Elizabeth looked at her cousin. "I'm not really sure," she answered. "I suspect not, but I'm not positive. I'd have to ask my father."  
  
Jeannine spoke up, "I don't think it's legal in the French colonies."  
  
"It's not legal in the Spanish ones," Antonia said. "I wasn't sure about English law."  
  
Jeannine looked at her curiously. "So why did you go through the ceremony if you didn't think it was legal?"  
  
Antonia looked amused. "If it makes James feel less guilty about spending nights in my bed until we can marry formally, why not?"  
  
"You did have to promise to obey him," Elizabeth pointed out.  
  
Antonia smiled broadly. "I can get around that. Don't tell me you can't get around Will if you choose, Elizabeth, because I'd never believe you."  
  
"Be careful, Tonia," warned Elizabeth. "James won't be easy to lead around by the nose."  
  
--  
  
Lt. Markson walked up to stand beside Norrington. "Begging your pardon, Commodore, but was that wedding legal?"  
  
Norrington continued to stare out at the ocean. "Not at all."  
  
"They why?"  
  
"She doesn't know it isn't legal. She also promised to obey me in front of witnesses. That may prove useful. It will also help protect her reputation when we return to Port Royal"  
  
Markson looked doubtfully at Norrington, but didn't comment. "Does Captain Sparrow know it wasn't a valid ceremony?"  
  
Norrington glanced at Markson, his expression amused. "Of course he does. Don't ever think for a moment that Sparrow is a fool, Lieutenant. He can think circles around most men."  
  
"Then why did he do it, sir?"  
  
Norrington shrugged. "To oblige me, most likely. And probably for Antonia's benefit. He tends to be solicitous of those he considers under his protection."  
  
"And as ship's captain, he considers all of us under his protection," said Markson slowly.  
  
"Quite right," agreed Norrington. "A hazard of command. Whatever his faults, he's a fine captain."  
  
Markson frowned in puzzlement. "I thought you didn't like him."  
  
"I respect and admire his good points," said Norrington patiently. "Just as I deplore his bad ones." He turned to Markson and said candidly. "You can't help liking the man, although I must admit there are certainly times that I wish I'd managed to get him strung up three years ago."  
  
Markson puzzled that for a moment. "An odd sort of friendship."  
  
Norrington snorted in amusement. "If you want to call it that." He regarded Markson speculatively. "Take your allies where you can find them, Lieutenant. You never know whom you'll need to call on."  
  
--  
  
The Black Pearl dropped anchor just off the small rocky beach. Jack turned to Ralf. "Just as you said, boy. Now the trap will be sprung a bit further east, aye?"  
  
"Aye," Ralf replied. "There's another cove even further east where the Vixen will go to wait for you to arrive. I don't know if he'll be there yet, or if he'll still be in the cove with the rock walls. I don't know how long it'll take him to set things up to his satisfaction, nor do I know when he expects you."  
  
"He doesn't expect me this early," said Jack with satisfaction. "He still believes me to be chasing clues all over the Bahamas."  
  
"He'll probably put out lookouts to watch for you at some point. I wouldn't think he'd have done it yet, but I could be wrong."  
  
Jack nodded absently, and watched the Sandpiper come in and anchor some distance off the Pearl's port side. Soon after the sails were dropped, a small boat was lowered and rowed to the Pearl. "Here come Captain Hale and Lt. Markson."  
  
--  
  
"Very well, gentlemen, we're all agreed," said the Commodore evenly. "Most of the crew of the Black Pearl will set out from this beach on foot toward the cove where the Vixen is waiting. Captain Hale, Mr. Gibbs and Joseph will accompany them. If the Pearl is trapped, there will then be enough manpower outside the trap to salvage the situation. The Sandpiper will wait here. The Black Pearl will then sail to the cove and trap the Vixen inside. Captain Sparrow, Mr. Turner and myself will leave the ship there, and row in to speak to Captain Reynard. The Pearl will remain at the entrance to this cove under the command of Miss Simone. Lt. Markson will remain with the Pearl to protect the ladies at need."  
  
Jack idly twirled his cup in his hands as he leaned back, feet on the table. "I'd rather go see Reynard alone."  
  
"Out of the question," said Norrington, brushing off the comment. "We're all in this situation. Turner and I will accompany you."  
  
"I dislike the thought of remaining tamely aboard ship," said Antonia, a bit sulkily.  
  
"Be grateful, my dear, that I'm not insisting you stay on the Sandpiper," said Norrington coolly.  
  
"Think of it this way, Mrs. Norrington," said Joseph deferentially. "It comes down to using manpower to best advantage. Since you are not trained in arms you would be a liability in a fight. As a lookout, however, you can be of great use. By remaining on the Pearl and keeping at eye on the Vixen, you will help assure that we can cage Reynard in his own trap."  
  
Norrington eyed Joseph with surprise. "Quite right." He took Antonia's hand. "Darling, I will need all my wits about me. I won't be at my best if I'm worried about your safety."  
  
Antonia glared first at Joseph, then at James and dropped her eyes. "Very well James. I won't worry you."  
  
Elizabeth exchanged glances with Antonia. Tonia's glance was slightly sulky. Elizabeth's was amused. "I told you, cousin," she whispered to Antonia. "You aren't going to be able to lead him around by the nose."  
  
Antonia looked down her nose. "I despise people who say 'I told you so'," she sniffed.  
  
--  
  
"This shouldn't take long," said Jack to Annamaria as he walked toward the small boat that the crew was making ready. "An hour or two. We're just going to search the Vixen. If we find Gwen we'll get back here post haste. If we find Reynard, well..." Jack trailed off.  
  
"What happens if you're longer than two hours?" Annamaria asked.  
  
Jack shrugged. "Then we've run into a problem." He stopped and turned to her. "Anna, if I don't make it back, the Pearl is yours."  
  
"Mine?" Annamaria was shocked. "But Jack.."  
  
"It's what I want, luv." Obviously done talking about it, he swung into the boat, which already held Will and Norrington, and gave the signal to lower the boat. "See you in two hours!"  
  
-- 


	29. Chapter 29

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 29  
  
Stealthily, the small boat approached the Vixen. Will, Jack and Norrington could see the bonfire on the beach. Most of the crew was probably there – drinking, most likely. There should be few men aboard the Vixen tonight. When they got close, they carefully shipped the oars and tied the boat to a ring on the hull. Jack lightly tossed a small grappling hook over the rail, and after pausing to be sure no one heard, they climbed up – one after the other. Landing lightly on the deck, Jack stood stock still for a moment, listening hard. He heard nothing but the voices and the laughter of the crew on the beach. Catching Will's eye, he jerked his head aft, to where the Captain's cabin must be. They'd start the search there.  
  
--  
  
Moodily, Reynard stalked up from the galley. He'd forgotten that he'd given the cook leave to go ashore, and he'd been forced to go rummage through the galley himself to find something to eat. The piece of bread and cheese he'd found, while adequate to fill his stomach, wasn't quite what he'd had in mind. There were probably less than a half dozen men aboard. Everyone else was on the beach. He felt restless for some reason; a growing unease that wouldn't allow him to be still. He wasn't sure what the problem was, but there was something, something... Listening intently, he tried to pinpoint the cause of his unease. Was that a footfall? With a slight frown, Reynard stole forward silently. Who would be on deck? Cautiously he crept closer. Three shadows moved softly along the rail. The one in front stopped and turned toward the one behind him. When his head turned, a braid swung around, and a coin woven into it glinted slightly in the moonlight. Reynard's eyes narrowed. Sparrow! He was here already! Silently, Reynard stepped back into the shadows and retreated below. He'd need reinforcements.  
  
--  
  
They'd reached the Captain's cabin without incident. No one was there. "Perhaps he's ashore with the crew," Will hissed into Jack's ear.  
  
"Perhaps," Jack murmured. Crossing swiftly to the desk, he started leafing through papers. A quick search revealed nothing of any interest. "Let's try the other cabins and the brig," he said softly. "Gwen may still be aboard."  
  
Norrington was reaching for the doorknob when it suddenly swung open. "Good evening, gentlemen," drawled Reynard. He stood in the doorway, holding Gwen in front of him, a knife poised at her throat.  
  
Jack recovered quickly. His eyes flicked briefly to Gwen's and then to Reynard's. "Interesting little chase you sent us on, mate. I give you high marks for originality."  
  
"Thank you. From you that is a high compliment." Reynard gestured briefly with the knife. "Why don't you just lay your weapons on the desk, Sparrow? Tell your friends to do likewise."  
  
Jack stood still. His gaze flicked again to Gwen's face. Her face was paler than usual, her lips pressed together. She said nothing. "You don't dare kill her, Reynard. You've lost your bargaining point if you do."  
  
Reynard casually drew the knife along Gwen's collarbone, making a shallow cut perhaps three inches long. Her swift indrawn breath was heard, but she still said nothing. Blood began to trickle down her chest before soaking into the bodice of her gown. "No, I won't kill her. But how long can you stand to watch her bleed?" He moved the knife to another area of her neck. "Shall we try that again?"  
  
With a jerk, Jack plucked his pistol from his sash and dropped it onto the desk, then pulled off his sword belt and let it clatter down as well. Although he said nothing, his eyes burned with fury. Will and Norrington pulled out pistols and swords as well, and laid them on the desk.  
  
"Good," said Reynard. With a nod he summoned the two men behind him into the room. "Check them for other weapons," he ordered. "And bind their hands." Jack stood rigidly, but unresisting as the sailors tied his hands behind his back, checked his clothing, and pulled a knife out of his boot to place on the table with the rest. Will and Norrington exchanged looks, but they likewise did not resist. Reynard removed his knife from Gwen's neck and pushed her toward a chair. Pale but composed, she sat, completely ignoring the cut on her neck, still bleeding sluggishly.  
  
Jack, moving as casually as if he didn't have his arms bound behind him, hooked his foot around a chair and dragged it back from the table. He sat, leaned back and set his feet on the table, as was his habit, ignoring the awkwardness created by his bound hands. "Can't say it's pleasant to see you again, Reynard. You always were a annoying little bastard, and you don't seem to have changed much."  
  
Reynard smiled slightly and ignored the insult. His gaze turned toward Will's face. "You must be Will Turner, whom I have heard so much about."  
  
Will nodded slightly in acknowledgement. "You've heard good things, I hope."  
  
Reynard turned to Norrington. "And you are Commodore Norrington. I must say, even out of uniform you have the look of a military man." Norrington nodded coolly, without speaking. Reynard turned back to Jack. "Where's the Pearl, Sparrow?"  
  
Jack grinned wickedly. "Blocking you in this little cove, mate, guns at the ready. Where did you think?"  
  
Gwen sat with her eyes downcast, seemingly indifferent to what was happening in the room. Inwardly, however, her mind was racing. As casual as he seemed, Gwen knew Jack's mind was racing as well, analyzing the situation; coming up with schemes and plans. Could she help him? Reynard wasn't paying any attention to her, and neither were the other two sailors who were currently standing by the door, pistols in hand. The desk that had the weapons on it was across the room from her. She didn't think she could manage to get over there. In fact, she didn't think she could even rise without calling attention to herself. She scanned the cabin for anything that might help, but she couldn't think of anything. Unless.....  
  
--  
  
"It's been nearly three hours!" Elizabeth said, anxiously pacing up and down the main deck. "Something is wrong, I just know it!"  
  
"The question is, what can we do about it?" Antonia asked.  
  
"Most of the crew seems to be on the beach. There probably aren't more than a few men on the Vixen." Annamaria said.  
  
Markson spoke up. "If Reynard has captured them he won't waste much time in gathering the crew back up. He knows Captain Sparrow's reputation."  
  
"We don't have enough men aboard to attack," Annamaria fretted. "I wonder if it's possible to get another man aboard that ship,"  
  
"Reynard must know that the Black Pearl is out here, Anna," Antonia put in. "Any stranger he sees he'll automatically suspect is from the Pearl."  
  
"Would he suspect a woman?" Jeannine spoke up.  
  
"It wouldn't work, Jeannine," said Elizabeth. "He thinks the three of us are in Nassau."  
  
"But he doesn't know me," Jeannine pointed out. The others turned to stare at her. "He's never seen me and he certainly doesn't know that you rescued me from the Golden Mermaid. He wouldn't suspect that I'm associated with the Black Pearl at all."  
  
"Miss St. Cyr," began Markson, "I can't allow.."  
  
"You're not responsible for me, Lieutenant," Jeannine said dismissively.  
  
"Jeannine," said Antonia, "We can't ask you to put yourself in danger. If you're caught, think of what might happen to you."  
  
"I know, Antonia. That brothel might seem a haven compared to what might happen to me."  
  
"Then why?"  
  
Ignoring the question, Jeannine turned to Annamaria. "Miss Simone, if Captain Sparrow doesn't return, what do you plan to do?"  
  
Anna frowned. "Come up with a way to get them back."  
  
"You wouldn't weigh anchor and just sail off then?"  
  
Her frown deepened. "No."  
  
Jeannine turned back to Antonia. "If we fight and lose then I'm no better off, Tonia," she said unemotionally. "Therefore it behooves me to do what I can to ensure that we win. Besides," she said simply. "I owe you."  
  
"Jeannine," protested Elizabeth.  
  
Jeannine turned to Annamaria again. "I'm right," she said, "and you know it."  
  
Anna nodded slowly. "Aye. I do."  
  
Markson spoke again. "She's not going alone. Reynard doesn't know me either."  
  
"Aye, but he may shoot you outright."  
  
"I'll take that chance," Markson replied grimly.  
  
-- 


	30. Chapter 30

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 30  
  
"Well, it's been a pleasure chatting with you, Jack," said Reynard getting to his feet. "But I think it's time for you and your mates here to settle down in our brig for a while. I have to think about what to do with you."  
  
Jack amicably swung his legs off the table and stood. "If ye say so, mate"  
  
Gwen stood and smoothed a loose tendril of hair, tucking it beneath the coil on the back of her head. "Captain Reynard? May I be allowed to say goodnight to my husband?" At his amused nod she moved toward Jack and put her hands on his shoulders. "Jack, I'm so sorry."  
  
Jack shook his head. "Tisn't for you to feel sorry, lass. None of this is your doing." He lowered his head and kissed her. Gwen pressed against him, one hand winding around his neck, the other stroking his hair.  
  
Reynard watched for a moment, and then rolled his eyes. Reaching out, he grasped Gwen's arm and yanked her away from her husband. "Very touching, to be sure," he sneered. He shoved Jack toward one of the crewmen. "Take them below."  
  
--  
  
Reynard's first mate, Ned MacKenzie, had the unenviable task of rounding up a crew of drunken sailors and herding them back toward the ship. With the Black Pearl awaiting them just outside the cove, the Vixen was in a difficult position. With Captain Sparrow, Commodore Norrington and Will Turner aboard, the crew of the Pearl might hesitate to fire on them, but it was too big a risk to leave the ship defended by no more than a half dozen men. He was yanking some of those who had already succumbed to drink to their feet when he saw two people stumble out of the trees into the beach area.  
  
"Oh, thank heaven!"  
  
The voice was feminine. MacKenzie looked incredulously at the couple coming toward them. The man was fairly tall, with brown hair tied in a careless ponytail. The girl, however, was lovely. Dark brown hair flowed loose around her shoulders and her eyes looked pleadingly into MacKenzie's. Bemused he just stared at them. The man put out his hand. "Richard Martin, sir, at your service. We were shipwrecked here about a week ago. Just saw your fire this evening. Can't say how glad I am to lay eyes on another human being."  
  
MacKenzie shook the offered hand. "You were shipwrecked?"  
  
"Yes," answered the girl. "On the other side of the island. We've been walking around looking for signs of life."  
  
The man smiled fondly and put a hand on the girl's shoulder. "My wife," he introduced. "Are you the captain of that ship?"  
  
"No, I'm the first mate. MacKenzie's the name."  
  
"May we speak to the captain?" The girl smiled winningly up at him. "Perhaps there is some way we can earn our passage."  
  
A variety of thoughts went through MacKenzie's mind, but they went unsaid. He's let the Fox deal with this one.  
  
--  
  
Jack, Will and Norrington were ushered into cells, and the ropes binding their hands were cut. Jack rolled his shoulders to loosen them up again and regarded his companions. "This must be where they kept the ladies." He nodded toward the cots. "Most brigs don't have furniture."  
  
Norrington was obviously seething. "You seem very cavalier about this situation, Sparrow," he spat, rubbing his wrists. "Now what are we going to do!"  
  
"Relax, mate," Jack said, reaching up and fingering the top of one of his braids. He drew a hairpin out of it and showed it to the others. "Gwen jabbed this into my head so hard I nearly yelped out loud," he said humorously. Fingering a different braid he drew out a sturdier lockpick. "It wouldn't have mattered if she hadn't, but it's nice to know she cares." With ease of long practice, he inserted it into the lock. Barely five seconds later there was a quiet click and the lock sprang open. "The question now becomes, exactly when is the opportune moment?"  
  
--  
  
Gwen watched as Jack, Will and Norrington were ushered from the room. Reynard shut the door behind them and turned to her. "So, cherie, you see that I've your husband at my mercy." He put a hand under her chin and tilted her face up to look at him. "From the looks of that kiss, it seems you're not indifferent to him."  
  
Gwen raised her brows. "I've never claimed to be indifferent to him." She jerked her chin out of his hand and stepped back. "May I go to my cabin? It's very late."  
  
Reynard smiled chillingly. "Not tonight, Gwen. I'm tired of waiting." From outside the door, however, came a number of voices, some drunken, some not. "I've some things to take care of yet, though." He scanned the cabin, noting the weapons lying on the desk. "Can't have you getting into anything while I'm busy." Grasping her by the arm, he pulled her over to the bunk in the corner. Taking out a piece of rope, he looped it around her right wrist, passed it through a hole in the carving at the head of the bed, and back, tying the knots tight. "There, that should keep you out of trouble." He kissed her mockingly, then left.  
  
Alone, Gwen examined the rope. What it was, essentially, was a leash about three feet long, attaching her wrist to the wall above the bunk. The loop around her wrist wasn't so tight that she was loosing circulation, but she doubted she'd be able to wiggle out of it. A quick search of the area around the bed she was able to reach didn't turn up anything she'd be able to use to cut the rope. The trio of swords and knives on the desk across the room remained mockingly out of reach. She took a closer look at the knots. She couldn't reach any of them with her right hand, so she'd have to try untying them with her left hand only. She sank down on the bunk and started picking at them.  
  
--  
  
Norrington crouched just out of sight of the Vixen's deck, Will and Jack just behind him. The deck was crowded with pirates returning from the beach. Jack peered over his shoulder. "This doesn't appear to be the opportune moment," Norrington muttered.  
  
"No, can't say that it is. We'd best go back and try again later. It's bound to settle down in a bit," Jack agreed.  
  
--  
  
Reynard strode through the crowd of crewmen on the deck, searching for MacKenzie. He found him with two strangers, a man and a woman. "Ah, Captain," said MacKenzie. "This is Mr. and Mrs. Martin. They were shipwrecked near a week ago and are seeking help from us."  
  
Reynard stared in surprise, "Is that so?" He extended his hand to the man. "I'm Captain Reynard of the Vixen. What can I do for you?"  
  
Markson took the hand and shook it heartily. "I hope we can arrange passage off this island, Captain." He smiled genially. "My wife and I were on our way to St. Augustine."  
  
Jeannine pushed forward and held out her own hand. "Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Captain," she simpered. "I can't tell you how glad I am to see other people again!"  
  
Reynard took her hand and kissed it. "Well, Mr. and Mrs. Martin, perhaps you'd like to step down to my cabin and we can see what sort of arrangement we can work out."  
  
Jeannine smiled vacantly, "Oh, but could I take a look around your lovely ship instead? I'm sure Richard," she sent a glowing smile at Markson, "can take care of whatever business is necessary. You'll give me a tour, won't you Mr. MacKenzie?" She clutched his arm to her bosom and fluttered her lashes.  
  
Reynard looked amused. "By all means. MacKenzie, bring Mrs. Martin with you when you set the watch. No doubt she'd be interested."  
  
Jeannine squealed with delight and hugged MacKenzie's arm even tighter. "Oh, Mr. MacKenzie, that would be delightful!"  
  
Markson allowed a hint of uneasiness to show in his expression. "Of course, my love. I'll see you in a short while then."  
  
Reynard ushered him toward the Captain's cabin, and opened the door for him. Markson walked through the doorway and glanced around the cabin. He saw Gwen sitting on the bunk, her eyes shocked at the sight of him. He nodded distantly at her. "Ma'am." Reynard glanced at him. "Your wife, Captain?"  
  
Reynard walked to the table and pulled out a chair. "No, my woman."  
  
"Of course," said Markson. He pulled out another chair and sat down, showing no further interest in Gwen.  
  
She dropped her eyes to her lap, breathing deeply to regain composure. What was Lt Markson doing here? He must be playing some sort of game, since he pretended not to recognize her. Had he been on the Pearl? Was he here to try and rescue the men? And her? Keeping her eyes downcast, she listened intently to the conversation.  
  
"Where are you headed, Captain?"  
  
"From here we'll be headed to Nassau."  
  
Markson grinned widely. "Can I arrange passage for myself and my wife to Nassau then?"  
  
Reynard smiled slowly. "Tell me, Mr. Martin, what ship were you sailing on when you were shipwrecked?"  
  
Markson smiled. "The Dolphin."  
  
"The Dolphin? What happened to the rest of the crew?"  
  
"I don't really know. Jeannine and I were in one boat, and became separated from the rest of the survivors. I have no idea what happened to them."  
  
Reynard studied Markson's face. "You seem very clean shaven for a man who has been shipwrecked for a week."  
  
"No, not at all," said Markson, indicating a small case attached to his belt. "I have a razor in here." He smiled fatuously. "My Jeannine has sensitive skin. Mustn't rub her skin raw, you know!"  
  
"What is your business in St. Augustine?"  
  
"Visiting relatives. My wife is French, you know. Her sister lives in Florida, and we're going to visit for a bit."  
  
"What do you do for your living?"  
  
Markson looked puzzled. "Why do you want to know?"  
  
"Well, to be perfectly blunt, sir," said Reynard lazily, "this is a pirate ship. I'm trying to decide how much ransom to ask of you and your wife."  
  
"A pirate ship!" Markson was pleased at how well he simulated that shock. "But what does that mean?"  
  
"It means, Mr. Martin, that you and your wife are my captives, and I will require a substantial ransom before you are released to go your way."  
  
"Where's my wife!"  
  
"Taking a tour of the ship with Mr. MacKenzie, no doubt."  
  
"You'll not harm her!"  
  
Reynard smiled with amusement. "Not if I'm well enough paid, I won't."  
  
Markson didn't need to feign fear. He hoped to God above that Jeannine wasn't in any danger, but they'd both known when they began this charade that there was no being sure of that. "I haven't much money with me."  
  
Reynard shrugged. "Not surprising. You'll have relatives or business associates who can come up with a sum for you, eh? When we reach Nassau I'll have a letter sent on your behalf. Between now and then you can decide whom you'll write to."  
  
"What will you do with us?"  
  
"For you, I've space in the brig at the moment. Your lady will do well enough in one of the cabins."  
  
"I insist that you keep us together!"  
  
Reynard laughed aloud. "Martin, you are in no position to insist on anything."  
  
-- 


	31. Chapter 31

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 31  
  
Jeannine clung to MacKenzie's arm and hung on his every word. She flirted, she fluttered, she smiled coquettishly. She did her level best to appear a vacant headed young girl with a roving eye. MacKenzie appeared to be falling for it. His explanations of the ship's fixtures were indulgent and his eyes lingered more and more on the skin revealed above the discreet bodice of the gown she'd purloined from Gwen's closet aboard the Black Pearl. The tour was turning out to be more exhaustive than MacKenzie had planned on. He had been considering giving her an extensive look at the inside of the first mate's cabin, but for some reason they kept getting sidetracked. He would have been astonished to realize that Jeannine was doing that on purpose.  
  
"Is that the galley?" Jeannine inquired.  
  
"Why yes, Mrs. Martin," MacKenzie answered.  
  
She entered the room and looked around. "It's so small!" She smiled fetchingly at the cook. "How on earth do you manage to feed all these men in such a small space?"  
  
"Well, ma'am, uh.." the cook stumbled over his words and shot a questioning look at MacKenzie. Jeannine turned her back on them and studied the room. A large pot sat over a fire on a stove. A quick glance inside proved that the pot was filled with porridge – no doubt for the men's breakfast. This was what she was here for. Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she saw that MacKenzie and the cook were talking to each other, and for the moment, not looking her way. Quickly she slipped her hand into the opening in the side seam of her skirt, and reached the pocket in her shift. Drawing out a pouch, she swiftly upended it into the pot and stuffed the pouch back out of sight in the hidden pocket. Idly picking up a spoon, she stirred the mixture until the power disappeared. Turning again, she saw the men looking at her once again, so she casually laid down the spoon and began chattering once again about how amazing it was that so many men were fed from such a small place and asking inane questions about what sort of food they ate everyday. As they turned away, the hairpin that had been in the hidden pocket along with the pouch fell to the ground with an unnoticed 'ting'.  
  
As MacKenzie escorted her out, she suppressed a yawn. "Oh, it must nearly be dawn! It's been such a long day. Do you know where my husband went to?"  
  
"I believe you're to be sleeping in a cabin next to the officer's cabins. Perhaps," he said running a hand down her back, "you'd permit me to show you my cabin?"  
  
"Oh, sir!" Jeannine said with mock surprise, stepping away as the hand dipped below her waist. "I can't think that it would be quite the thing. But if you'd escort me to where I will be sleeping, I would be most grateful."  
  
"But of course, Mrs. Martin," said MacKenzie, leading her down the passageway. He opened a door and ushered her inside, shutting and locking it behind him.  
  
Nervously, Jeannine noted the man's clothing scattered around and the unmade bunk. "Is this the cabin my husband and I will be sleeping in?"  
  
"It's my cabin, sweetheart," answered MacKenzie, pulling her toward him.  
  
"I don't think it's proper for me to be here," said Jeannine desperately, pushing at his chest. "I want to be taken to my husband."  
  
"In due time, in due time," MacKenzie said absently, as his hands pulled at her skirt.  
  
"What are you doing!" Jeannine nearly shrieked.  
  
"Only what you've been asking for, sweet."  
  
--  
  
When the men in the brig area heard heavy footsteps on the stairs, they looked up quickly. They'd been taking turns scouting out the deck area, but so far there had been too many people about to make escape a viable possibility.  
  
"I must protest this entire business." Markson stated loudly as they neared the brig area. "I demand to see my wife!"  
  
Will, Jack and Norrington quickly exchanged glances. Was that Markson's voice? What would he be doing here?  
  
"Mr. Martin," drawled Reynard patiently as they came into view. "As I said before, you are in no position to demand anything." He looked around at the three other prisoners. "I've brought you some more company, gentlemen." He opened the fourth cell door and pushed Markson inside. "We'll speak again later, Martin." Turning, he headed back up the stairs.  
  
When Reynard's footsteps had died away, Commodore Norrington turned to Markson. "In the name of all that's holy," he said through gritted teeth, "what are you doing here?"  
  
"Rescue attempt, sir," he replied.  
  
"It doesn't appear to be going very well," commented Will.  
  
"Actually, so far it's going exactly to plan," said Markson.  
  
"What did you mean, 'wife'?" Jack asked.  
  
Markson sat down on the small cot. "Jeannine is with me. She's pretending to be my wife. We told Reynard we'd been shipwrecked here."  
  
Norrington's face was incredulous. "You brought a woman aboard this ship? Are you mad!"  
  
"No, sir. Actually she brought me. I didn't have much choice. She was going to come whether or not I wanted her to. I came along to run as much interference for her as I could and protect her as much as possible. God, I hope she's all right."  
  
"Whose idea was that?" Norrington snarled.  
  
"Hers. Then she, Elizabeth, Antonia and Annamaria hammered out the details. I wasn't given any say in the matter at all."  
  
"I left you on that ship to protect the women, not to put one of them into danger!"  
  
"Commodore, with all due respect, Captain Sparrow left Miss Simone in charge of the Pearl. If she was willing for Jeannine to attempt this, I couldn't stop her. The only thing I could think of to do was to come along and help as much as I could."  
  
Jack spoke up, "So what is Jeannine actually doing?"  
  
"She took a large pouch of powder from Gwen's medical supplies. Anna told me it was something Gwen used to mix up sleeping draughts. She intends to put it into the men's food. She flirted the first mate into giving her a tour of the ship. I kept Reynard talking for as long as I could so he couldn't interfere."  
  
Will frowned. "Do you really think she'll be able to do that?"  
  
Markson shrugged. "Very possibly. She turned herself into a wide-eyed, brainless twit before my very eyes. I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself. I don't think MacKenzie knew what hit him." He turned to Jack. "Gwen was in the captain's cabin. It looked like she was tied to the bed."  
  
Jack's only visible reaction to this was the slight muscle twitch in his jaw. "Does she look all right?"  
  
Markson shrugged again. "Hard to be sure. She didn't say anything. She's got a fairly sizable smear of blood on her neck though."  
  
Will spoke up, "It's how he caught us, threatening to cut her until we surrendered. Obviously he'd have done it too."  
  
Markson nodded. "I thought that probably was the case."  
  
"So, if Jeannine succeeded," Jack said, "then the men will start nodding off soon after breaking their fast in the morning, eh?"  
  
"That's correct, sir. Shouldn't be too long, it's nearly dawn now."  
  
"That will be the opportune moment then."  
  
--  
  
Reynard reentered his cabin and looked at Gwen. He raised his eyebrows. "Haven't been able to make any headway with those knots, have you?"  
  
"No, I can't say I have," she said calmly.  
  
A tap sounded at the door, and the cabin boy entered with a tray. "Set it on the table, boy," Reynard said. He glanced at the morning offering of porridge and grimaced. "Well I can't say I've an appetite for that." He looked over at Gwen and smiled wickedly. "I've a different sort of appetite this morning." When the cabin boy exited, Reynard locked the door behind him. "I think we've some time before I'm needed again."  
  
Gwen jerked nervously on the rope that tethered her to the bunk. "Untie me, Reynard."  
  
He shook his head. "No, luv. I think I'll leave you like that. Should make things easier." When she tried to evade him he closed his hand on the knot of hair pinned to the back of her head and hauled her back, tearing the bun from his moorings and scattering pins everywhere. "Don't fight me, Gwen," he hissed. "If you do, I'll just hurt you." Yanking his knife from its sheath at his belt, he inserted the tip into her bodice and ripped it down, slicing open the fabric to her waist. Tossing the knife to the floor, he took both hands and tore the dress apart.  
  
-- 


	32. Chapter 32

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 32  
  
Jeannine watched the cabin door close behind MacKenzie's back. She heard the lock click a moment later. Slowly and painfully, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bunk, pulling her skirt down to cover them. God it hurt! The only thing she was thankful for was that it hadn't taken very long. He'd merely pushed her onto the bunk, flipped up her skirt and held her down while he unfastened his breeches. Once he had them undone, well, that part had been over quickly. A couple of pig like grunts, and that was the end of it. Her struggles hadn't made the slightest bit of difference. She shuddered. Disgusting. Making a conscious effort to put it from her mind, she rose and put her clothing to rights. Then a wave of horror washed over her as she realized that the hairpin she'd been carrying was gone from her pocket. Frantically she searched her clothing, the floor, and the bed without result.  
  
Jeannine sank to the floor and put her head in her hands. Relax! She ordered herself. Calm down. You've been expecting to be ravished since the pirates took that ship three days out from Martinique. Well, it had finally happened. It wasn't a fate worse than death, but it wasn't a fate she wished to repeat. If she couldn't get this damn lock open, repeat it she almost certainly would. Breathe deeply, she ordered herself again. Lt. Markson had a pin too. He'd come for her if he could. But she couldn't stop shaking.  
  
--  
  
Will crept back down the stairs to report. "They're sitting around the deck, eating porridge. How long does it take for the stuff to start working?"  
  
Jack grimaced. "I haven't a clue. We don't know how much she used."  
  
"Or even," said Norrington coolly, "if she managed to get the job done in the first place."  
  
"You're a bundle of joy, aren't you?" Jack said sarcastically.  
  
"Do you suppose they'll be bringing any food to us?" Markson asked, idly practicing unlocking his cell with the hairpin Antonia had given him.  
  
"To you, probably," said Jack. "He plans on ransoming you, aye? Since he plans on killing the rest of us, he may not bother."  
  
"Get back in your cell then, Will," said Norrington. "Just in case someone comes down." Will stepped back into his cell and reluctantly pulled the door shut.  
  
Twenty minutes later, Jack opened his cell door and stole up the stairs. He was back down in a moment, picking the locks on the other cells. "It worked," he said tersely. "There's a half dozen men snoring away on the deck."  
  
Norrington stepped out of his cell as soon as Jack got it unlocked. "We still need to be careful. Not everyone might be asleep."  
  
--  
  
Unlike MacKenzie, Reynard had no intention of rushing. Gwen's dress and chemise were in tatters, and Reynard had stripped off her stockings and shoes. He had doffed his own clothes as well, and was wearing only his breeches. Gwen closed her eyes, gritted her teeth and tried to twist away again as Reynard handled her in ways only Jack had ever done before. Jack's touch had always been loving. Reynard was anything but. Her right wrist was rubbed raw and bleeding from the rope encircling it. She wished she knew if Jack had been able to pick the locks in the brig with the hairpin she'd given him. If the lock was too heavy, the pin might not be sturdy enough. Would he be coming? Would he be in time? She'd never learned whether or not Annamaria had been able to do anything with the pins she'd given her before. Lashing out with her knee, she managed to land a solid blow in Reynard's ribs, and paid for it a moment later with a stinging slap across her face.  
  
Jack silently opened the door of the Captain's cabin and peered through in time to see Reynard backhand Gwen across the face. A red haze seemed to lower itself in front of his eyes, and he leaped into the room. Reynard heard him coming, but scarcely had time to do more than turn before Jack seized him. Reynard tried to fight back, but the hard, punishing fingers around his throat robbed him of both air and strength, and both men fell crashing to the floor.  
  
Dimly Jack heard voices shouting, but they meant nothing to him next to the bloodlust rage. He lifted the neck he was holding and slammed the head into the ground. Once. Twice. Three times. Feeble hands slapped at him, then fell away. Four times. Five times. Then stronger hands fell on his forearms, fingers digging into the tendons. "Stop it Sparrow! That's enough!" Blinking, Jack looked up into Norrington's face. "Jack, get a hold of yourself." Jack allowed Norrington to pull his hands away from Reynard's throat. Had the Commodore really called him 'Jack'? Must be a first.  
  
He staggered to his feet and shook himself all over, like a dog shedding water. His dark eyes met Gwen's frightened gaze. He crossed to the bunk and sat on the edge, taking her into his arms. "It's all right now, luv. It's all right."  
  
Will looked dubiously down at the body on the floor. "Is he still alive?"  
  
Norrington felt for a pulse on the man's neck. "Yes, surprisingly enough. I imagine he'll be out for a while."  
  
"Here, Commodore," said Markson, coming forward with a coil of thin rope. "Just in case." Norrington took it, and they swiftly bound him hand and foot.  
  
Will went to the desk and retrieved his weapons. Picking up Jack's he carried them over to the bunk. "Come on, Jack, we need to secure the ship. We don't have time to linger." He smiled awkwardly at Gwen. "Are you all right?"  
  
Gwen summoned up a shaky smile. "I've been better."  
  
With a curt nod, Jack took his knife and cut the rope tethering Gwen to the bed. The murderous fury surged again when he saw the raw, bleeding marks on her wrist, but this time he remained in control. Standing up, he slung his baldric over his shoulder, and stuffed the knife back into his boot. He checked the pistol and handed it to Gwen. "Lock the door behind us, and if this one," he gestured to Reynard's still form, "wakes up, just shoot him."  
  
--  
  
The four men moved swiftly through the ship, checking each recumbent form to see if it was really asleep. MacKenzie lay in a heap on the quarterdeck. One sailor leaned precariously out of the crow's nest. A trio of men lay snoring in a puddle of water they were using to swab the deck. A few sailors were somewhat awake, if groggy. A quick blow to the head took care of that. "Jeannine will probably be in one of the cabins," Will said. "Come with me, Richard. We'll find her."  
  
Jeannine was systematically searching the cabin for anything she could use to try and pick the lock. So far she hadn't found anything that would work. Then she paused, listening. Was that someone calling?  
  
"Jeannine!" Markson shouted. "Jeannine!" Will went down the passage, opening every door and checking each cabin for occupants.  
  
"Richard!" Jeannine shrieked, pounding on the door. "Richard, I'm in here!"  
  
"Jeannine!" Richard reached the door. The key was still in the lock, so he turned it quickly. He flung open the door. Jeannine stood just inside. Richard put his hand on her arm and drew her into the passageway. "Lord, Jeannine, I was worried about you, are you all....." He trailed off, seeing the cluttered cabin and the masculine clothing strewn around. "Whose cabin is this?"  
  
"Mr. MacKenzie's," said Jeannine shortly.  
  
Markson stared at her, seeing the strain in her face, and the traces of tears. "He hasn't hurt you, I mean, he didn't...."  
  
Jeannine looked away. "Yes, he has and yes, he did. Don't concern yourself, Lieutenant. I knew it was a possibility when I came aboard."  
  
Without another word, she turned and started up the stairs to the main deck. Aghast, Markson stared after her. Will put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Come on, Richard. We've work to do."  
  
-- 


	33. Chapter 33

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 33  
  
Gwen's dress was completely beyond repair. Not wanting to wear any of Reynard's clothing, Gwen investigated a chest shoved against a wall. It had the same coat of arms painted on it as was on the wall of the cabin. The previous owner of the ship's perhaps? The chest proved to be filled with clothing, mostly silks and velvets, but Gwen managed to find a pair of plain tan breeches and a linen shirt. She put them on, then tore another shirt into a bandage, which she wound around her wrist. Carrying the pistol, she took a seat at the table, where she could clearly see Reynard lying on the floor. She checked him every few moments, but he showed no signs of coming around.  
  
She jumped as a knock fell on the door. "Gwen? It's Jack. Open the door."  
  
Rising, she rushed over and unlocked the door, throwing it open. "Are we safe? What's happening?"  
  
He nodded. "Yes, we're in control of the ship. All of Reynard's men are either asleep or locked up." He smiled at her with a hint of humor. "How long does that sleeping powder you have last?"  
  
She frowned in puzzlement. "It depends on how strong you make the draught. What on earth have you done?"  
  
He took her hand. "Too much to tell you right now. I need to send to the Pearl for more men. We need to get everyone secured before they wake up, and I can't do it with just three men to help. I want you to go too, as well as Jeannine."  
  
"Who is Jeannine?"  
  
"A girl that was rescued the same time as Annamaria, Elizabeth and Antonia. She came back aboard with Markson. She's the one who dumped your sleeping powder into the morning porridge."  
  
"Annamaria, Elizabeth and Antonia are safe?" Gwen closed her eyes in relief. "Thank heaven!"  
  
"Aye. Ask them how they did it, I'm sure they'd be delighted to give you all the details." He lifted her hand and studied it. "I think Jeannine was raped." He raised his eyes to hers. "Will ye take a look at her, see if she needs any medical attention?"  
  
"Of course." Gwen put her other hand over his. "Jack, I know you're wondering. Reynard never, I mean he never had a chance to..." She broke off and started again. "You stopped him in time, Jack. I'm still only yours."  
  
Jack pulled her into his arms and rested her head on his chest. "I'm glad, love. I'm relieved. I never wanted you to be hurt, Gwen." He kissed her gently. "We've a lot to talk about, but now isn't the time. Come, I'll take you to the boat."  
  
"What are you going to do with him?" Gwen asked, indicating Reynard's motionless body.  
  
"I'm trying to decide whether to flay him alive, or cut him into little pieces, slowly. Why? You didn't want to plead for his life, did you?"  
  
"You don't need to get fancy," Gwen said tiredly. "Just make sure he's dead."  
  
"I think you can count on it."  
  
--  
  
Annamaria was restlessly prowling the decks of the Black Pearl when the boat came through the opening of the rocks and into view. Quickly training her telescope on the approaching craft she saw four people aboard – Will, Markson, Jeannine and Gwen Sparrow. Snapping the telescope closed she shouted, "They're coming!"  
  
The rail was soon filled with every man or woman still aboard the Pearl. As soon as the boat came close enough, Antonia shouted, "Where are James and Jack?"  
  
"Still on the Vixen," Will shouted back. "Jack wants reinforcements to deal with the crew. Anna, who can be spared?"  
  
"Did Jeannine's plan work?" Elizabeth called as the boat bumped up against the Pearl's hull.  
  
"Beautifully," replied Will. He caught the rope ladder that Davy had thrown down and held it steady for the women to climb up. "Richard and I are headed right back. Jack wants Ralf to come too."  
  
Davy helped Jeannine and Gwen aboard, smiling shyly at both, and venturing a quiet, "Welcome back, ma'am" to Gwen, who gave him a quick hug, before being enveloped by Elizabeth.  
  
Annamaria gestured for Davy, Cotton, Pete and Seamus to scramble down the ladder and join the two men in the boat. Tommy, who was keeping an eye on Ralf during Joseph's absence, pushed a reluctant Ralf toward the ladder and followed. They quickly pushed off and headed back toward the Vixen.  
  
Jeannine forced herself to smile and accept congratulations on the success of her plan, but her manner was stilted enough to cause the other women to exchange puzzled glances. Gwen, who knew the reason, took a moment to whisper something in Annamaria's ear that caused the second mate to narrow her eyes and tighten her lips. "Damn," she murmured back. "I'll talk to her. It'll be best coming from me."  
  
"If you think so, Anna," Gwen replied. "Let me know if she needs any sort of medical treatment."  
  
"Let me grab a bottle of Jack's brandy, if that's all right with you?" Annamaria said. "That may be all she needs."  
  
Gwen shrugged. "Fine by me. Jack only keeps it around for guests. He prefers rum himself."  
  
"Good. Send Elizabeth or Antonia down to the galley and have the cook heat up a bucket of water and bring it Jeannine's cabin."  
  
"I will." Gwen smiled suddenly. "It's so good to see you again, Anna. I've been so worried about you."  
  
Annamaria smiled broadly and embraced her friend. "Likewise, Gwen." Turning away quickly jogged to the Captain's cabin, emerging a moment later with a bottle and two glasses. Returning to the group of women, she said, "Jeannine, you look exhausted! Come on, I'll walk you to your cabin." Anna draped an arm over Jeannine's shoulders and turned her toward the stairs. Jeannine looked startled, but did not protest. Antonia and Elizabeth also looked surprised, but Gwen touched each on the arm and nodded toward the Captain's cabin. With a backward look and an exchange of puzzled glances, they went with Gwen.  
  
--  
  
The two women entered the cabin and Anna shut the door behind them. "Thank you for walking me down, Miss Simone," said Jeannine, sitting down on the bunk, "but I think I'd best off alone just now. I haven't slept all night."  
  
Annamaria poured brandy into two glasses and held one out to Jeannine, who took it reluctantly. "My friends call me Annamaria. I'd be pleased if you would do the same." Jeannine took a sip of the brandy and wrinkled her nose. "Drink it," Anna said. "It will relax you. You're wound tighter than a harp string." There was a pause while both women drank. "So," Anna began, resting one hip on a cupboard and leaning against the wall, "tell me about what happened on the Vixen."  
  
Jeannine shot her a nervous glance and said, "I talked the first mate into giving me a tour of the ship and I was able to dump the powder into the morning porridge."  
  
Anna said, "That's not what I'm talking about and you know it."  
  
Jeannine shifted restlessly, "I don't know what you mean."  
  
Annamaria smiled. "Let me tell you something about me." Anna then told her about her life in the Carolinas and what she'd endured as a slave.  
  
"My God," said Jeannine, "No wonder you ran away."  
  
Annamaria shrugged and refilled their glasses. "It was either that or kill myself. Not that everything was rosy afterward. A woman in a pirate's life risks many things, Jeannine, and not just her life. Most men will take 'no' for an answer if it's said forcefully enough. Some won't. Once I was able to fight I was usually able to keep myself safe. Usually, Jeannine. Not always. Some men see a strong woman as a challenge and they want to bring her down. 'Teach her her place' as it were. So you see, I understand. It's happened to me more than once. So tell me about it. You'll feel better for having done so."  
  
Jeannine said slowly, "I don't know if I can. I'm not sure I can make myself say it."  
  
"Try."  
  
In a halting voice Jeannine told the whole story, sparing no details. Anna listened quietly without interrupting. When she finished, Jeannine added. "I think one of the worst parts was that he hardly seemed aware of me as a person, just a thing he could use to satisfy an urge."  
  
Annamaria took a long swallow of her brandy. "In some ways that makes it easier. It wasn't personal. He wasn't trying to hurt you. He didn't care if he did," she amended quickly, "but he wasn't trying to make it worse. He wanted to get laid, and you were there."  
  
"He said I was asking for it."  
  
Anna nodded. "I'm sure he thought you were. Though it might not have mattered one way or the other. If he thought you were available to him, he'd have acted that way if you were flirting with him or not." Anna paused and looked steadily at Jeannine. "Would you have acted differently if you'd known what was going to happen? Would you even have gone to the Vixen?"  
  
Jeannine thought for a moment. "I knew that there were very few men aboard, not enough to fight. I knew that the Captain of the Vixen wanted to kill Captain Sparrow, Commodore Norrington and Mr. Turner. I knew that if we waited for the rest of the men to arrive, it might be too late." She looked up at Anna. "Yes, I'd have done the same thing."  
  
Annamaria smiled. "We are greatly in your debt, Jeannine. All of us."  
  
Jeannine smiled tiredly. "Lt. Markson said you were loyal, practical and realistic, but not very compassionate. I'd say he was mistaken."  
  
Annamaria dismissed that with a wave of her hand. "He's a man after all. They're pitiful creatures, really."  
  
At that point a knock sounded on Jeannine's door. Anna opened it to find the cook, carrying a large bucket filled with gently steaming water. "Ah, Gerry, thank you," she said, taking the bucket from him. He touched his forelock and disappeared. Anna set the bucket on the floor. "You'll want to wash, I'm sure."  
  
Jeannine plucked the front of her borrowed gown. "It seems so silly, but I don't want to wear this anymore."  
  
Annamaria raised her brows. "Why would you? I'll borrow you another one."  
  
"I don't want to be a bother to Mrs. Sparrow."  
  
"You just saved her husband's life. I think she'll consider that worth a few gowns."  
  
-- 


	34. Chapter 34

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 34  
  
The crew of the Vixen was starting to wake up, but they were all incarcerated. As many as could fit in the brig were locked in there, and several more were locked in the cabins. Davy and Pete were guarding the ones in the brig, and Cotton and Seamus were guarding the passageway by the cabins. With Ralf's help, they'd identified which men were the officers and which the common sailors. The officers were all crammed together in one cabin, which had been stripped of anything they might use to escape. Jack, Will, Norrington and Markson were in the Captain's cabin, waiting for Reynard to wake up. They'd lifted him up off the floor and tied him to a chair. Markson walked over and slapped him lightly on the cheek. "Nothing yet," he said cheerfully. "You certainly did a job on him, Captain."  
  
"You shouldn't have stopped me, James," said Jack with a shrug. "He'd be better off dead."  
  
"He will be," said Norrington calmly. "Shall we take him back to Port Royal to hang?"  
  
"No, I'd rather take care of that before we go anywhere," Jack replied absently looking through the ship's log.  
  
Will was going through the large wardrobe cupboard, and pulled out a small chest. Setting it on the table, he opened it. "Look, it's a jewelry box. Picking up a small pouch, he slid several pieces into his hand. "Here's Gwen's wedding ring, Jack." He held it out as Jack came forward to take it.  
  
Jack polished the large black pearl on his sleeve and slipped the ring onto the little finger of his left hand. "She'll be glad to get this back."  
  
Will continued poking through the contents of the box. "Here's Elizabeth's wedding ring, and the earrings she was wearing when she was kidnapped." Norrington peered into the box as well, picking out the diamond ring he'd given Antonia to mark their betrothal. Will picked up a pair of diamond and pearl earrings. "There are the ones Elizabeth was going to give to Antonia as a wedding present." He handed them to Norrington.  
  
"What else is in there?" Jack asked, looking over Will's shoulder.  
  
"Mostly men's jewelry. Probably belonged to Lord Marlby," Will answered. "There are a few women's pieces though." He held up a string of white pearls. "These are lovely."  
  
"Why don't we give them to Jeannine?" Markson asked, his voice sounding odd even to himself. "We couldn't have done this without her."  
  
Jack glanced up; his dark eyes lingering on Markson's face a touch longer than necessary. "Good idea." He took the pearls and held them out. "Why don't you give them to her?" Markson took them with a long look, and put them in his pocket.  
  
"Oh, this one's pretty," said Jack, slipping a man's ring onto a finger. The large diamond glinted in the morning sunlight. "I just may keep this one."  
  
"Is loot all you think about," said Norrington in exasperation.  
  
"Not all," said Jack, studying the glittering diamond. "I think about a great many things. Including how irritating you are when you get that superior tone in your voice."  
  
"You must indeed be tired, Sparrow," Norrington said coldly. "That insult lacked your usual finesse."  
  
"I could use some shut eye," admitted Jack. He looked at Norrington and grinned. "I promise, I'll be in better form tomorrow."  
  
"Look," Markson said. "Our friend is stirring." Indeed, Reynard's eyes fluttered open. As the light hit his eyes he groaned and shut them again, rolling his aching head on his neck.  
  
Jack grinned broadly and walked quickly across the cabin to where Reynard was sitting. Grabbing another chair he positioned it in front of Reynard, straddling it and resting his arms on the back. "Hey Reynard," he said, slapping Reynard sharply across the face. "Wake up, mate."  
  
Reynard groaned again and opened his eyes to regard Jack. "Sparrow," he rasped.  
  
"Pleased to see you're with again," said Jack with a delighted grin. "I was afraid I'd killed you there for a while."  
  
"Couldn't bring yourself to do it?" Reynard sneered. "You always were a spineless bastard. 'No unnecessary killing,'" he mimicked. "No insulting the ladies. You're a wimp, Sparrow. A bloody yellow coward."  
  
Jack continued to grin, but his expression shifted from delighted to menacing. "Ah, Reynard. A braggart to the end. What on earth shall I do with you? The Commodore wants to bring you back to Port Royal to hang. I say that's too easy. What do you think?"  
  
"Reynard smiled humorlessly. "I was planning on tying you to a post waist deep in the water, cutting you so that you'd bleed and let the sharks have a picnic."  
  
"Inventive," commented Will, eyebrows raised. "You certainly do have an imagination."  
  
Reynard focused on Will. "It's the blacksmith privateer, is it?"  
  
"That's right," said Will amicably. "And you're the worm who kidnapped my wife and sold her to a brothel."  
  
Reynard chuckled. "So you found out about that, did you?" He directed an evil smile at Will. "I hope the fair Elizabeth was well entertained."  
  
"She was," said Will, keeping a leash on his temper. "She enjoys knocking rapists unconscious with their own pistols. Finds it an pleasurable pastime, right up there with shopping and attending tea parties."  
  
Jack threw an amused smile over his shoulder at Will. "He doesn't know much about women, does he?"  
  
"Apparently not," Markson put in.  
  
Reynard shifted his glance in that direction. "Mr. Martin? So you were in league with the Black Pearl all along, were you?"  
  
"I'm Lieutenant Richard Markson of Ft. Charles in Port Royal," said Markson with a slight bow. "At your service, sir."  
  
"And the chit who was with you?"  
  
Markson's expression hardened. "She put a sleeping draught in your crew's breakfast. Never underestimate a lady, Reynard."  
  
Norrington shifted restlessly. "Can we put an end to this useless banter and decide what to do with this, this creature?"  
  
"What's the matter, Commodore, don't want to talk to me?" Reynard mocked.  
  
"Can't say that I do," Norrington answered. "You're right, Sparrow. I should have just let you kill him."  
  
"No time like the present," said Jack genially, pulling out his knife. He tested the sharpness of the blade.  
  
"Would you like me to sharpen it for you?" Will asked solicitously.  
  
"No," Jack replied, his eyes starting to glitter malevolently. "Dull is fine."  
  
-- 


	35. Chapter 35

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 35  
  
Antonia, Elizabeth and Gwen had shared their stories by the time Annamaria let herself in the Captain's cabin of the Black Pearl. "How is she?" Gwen asked.  
  
Anna shut the door and set the brandy on the table. "She's asleep. I fed her some brandy, helped her bathe and put her to bed. She's okay, Gwen. Not much physical damage."  
  
"How about mentally?"  
  
"Again, she'll be all right. It may take a little time, but she'll get over it." Annamaria settled into a chair. "She told me about it. It wasn't as bad as it could have been."  
  
Antonia shuddered. "It could have been any of us."  
  
"And nearly was," agreed Gwen.  
  
"I'll invite her to stay with Will and I when we get back to Port Royal," Elizabeth decided. "It will do her good."  
  
"You aren't match making, are you?" Antonia asked severely.  
  
"Of course I am," said Elizabeth serenely. "Don't you think she and Richard would make a nice couple?"  
  
"We don't know how he feels about what happened to her," warned Antonia. "It may put him off."  
  
"We'll see about that," said Elizabeth complacently.  
  
--  
  
Will shuddered a bit as the boat neared the Pearl. It was near dusk, and it had been another long day. He'd heard stories about the cruelty of pirates, but he'd never actually witnessed it. Jack was usually so - well, civilized wasn't quite the right word, but he usually wasn't vicious. Maybe he'd been naïve, Will mused. He certainly didn't blame Jack for feeling the way he did, and the Good Lord knew that Reynard deserved to die, but still, it had been hard to watch.  
  
Gibbs, Joseph, Captain Hale and the rest of the Pearl's crew had arrived on the beach shortly before noon that day, chagrined to find out they'd missed all the fun. The traveling had been more difficult than they had anticipated, so they'd arrived much later than they'd planned. With the increased manpower now available to him, Jack had rounded up the Vixen's crew and had them watch the execution of their Captain. Jack had done it himself on the main deck, with his slightly dull knife, and it had taken quite a while. Afterward, Joseph had calmly gathered up what was left of the late Reynard the Fox, and dumped the body overboard. What happened next was easier to think about. From his reading of the log books, both the Vixen's and the Lady Fortuna's, and his conversations with Ralf, Jack had singled out those ship's officers and crew members who had been instrumental in the planning and execution of the mutiny which had put the ship into Reynard's hands. These men, Ned MacKenzie included, had been hung. That had been justice, and not unexpected. Had Reynard ended like that, Will would not have been bothered by it at all. The remainder of the crew would be marooned on the island. Since there was fresh water available, and it was fairly near to New Providence, the men would most likely be rescued sooner or later.  
  
"And Jack's reputation will grow," Will murmured to himself as he reached for the rope ladder to climb to the Pearl's deck. Elizabeth met him at the rail. Gratefully, Will had pulled her into his arms and rested his head on her hair. Sensing his mood, she asked him no questions, but merely pulled him toward their cabin. Will followed with relief. In the quiet peace of their cabin, and the warmth of Elizabeth's love, Will knew he would recover his equilibrium.  
  
--  
  
Jack rummaged through the Lord Marlby's chest of clothing, searching for something to wear that wasn't soaked in blood. His own shirt and breeches were a total loss. Like Gwen had earlier, he bypassed the silks and velvets, and finally settled for a pair of dark gray breeches and an off white linen shirt. Joseph watched him dress. "Will was mighty disturbed by what you did to Reynard."  
  
Jack sighed wearily. "Aye, I could see it in his face." Summoning up a small smile he added, "He'd make a dreadful card player."  
  
"He's idealistic," Joseph said with a slight shrug.  
  
"He is," Jack agreed. "I'll talk to him tomorrow, see if I can make him understand. It was necessary, Joseph, you know that."  
  
"Aye, Captain, I know that. The rest of the crew will be rescued, and they'll talk about this to everyone they meet for the rest of their lives. Not one of them will ever be a party to harming you or yours again. That's why you did it. Not just for revenge."  
  
"Revenge wasn't a small part of it though," Jack admitted. "I've never wanted to hurt anyone that badly in my life. Not even Barbossa."  
  
"Not even Barbossa?" Joseph raised his eyebrows.  
  
"No. I thought about killing him for ten years, but I never had the urge to cut him to shreds. Dead was good enough." Jack nudged at the discarded, bloodstained clothing in a heap on the floor. "Part of me almost feels sick thinking about it, and the rest wants to bring him back and do it again."  
  
"Let it go now Captain, and let's head back to the Pearl. Gibbs and Captain Hale can manage the Vixen until tomorrow." Joseph put a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Mrs. Sparrow is waiting for you, and Anna is waiting for me. Let's go."  
  
"Aye," Jack said and took a deep breath. "Let's go." He gathered up the ruined clothing and headed out. When he reached the main deck he went over to the rail and dropped the clothing overboard. After a moment's hesitation, he pulled his knife from where he'd replaced it in his boot, and flung it overboard as well.  
  
--  
  
Jack quietly opened the door of his cabin on the Black Pearl and looked around. From the light of the single candle burning on the table, he could see Gwen sleeping in the bunk. She was lying on her side, facing him, her arm extended onto his side of the bed. She looked every inch a lady, in her white nightdress with the blue satin ribbons decorating the bodice. He felt filthy. He left his hat on the table, and hung his sword belt carefully on the hook next to the bed. He took off his clothing and dropped it carelessly on a chest, and sat gingerly on the edge of the bunk, trying not to wake his sleeping wife. She'd changed the sheets, he saw. The crisp white linen felt smooth beneath his hand. He gathered up a lock of the long red brown hair that lay across his pillow and brought it to his nose. It smelled like the scented soap she liked to use – clean and fresh. He'd washed on the Vixen, but he could still smell the blood and the sweat. He'd just tortured a man to death – how could he just crawl into bed with Gwen with her clean white sheets, her soft white nightdress and her lavender scented hair? How could she want him to? Yet when he saw the bandage on her wrist and the faint shadow of a bruise on her cheekbone, he felt the vicious anger surge again.  
  
Maybe he should let her go. Buy her a house in Port Royal, or Barbados or wherever the hell she wanted. He could give her enough money to live comfortably the rest of her life. God knew he had enough of it. Between the stash Barbossa had left on the Isla de Murta and what he'd collected himself over the last few years he could afford it. She could even go to England, change her name and forget she ever knew him.  
  
"Jack?"  
  
His eyes went to hers, and he saw she was awake now, and looking at him. She sat up with a sleepy smile and reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, stroking it down his back. "You must be exhausted." She leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his jaw. "Lie down, love."  
  
"I'm a filthy, stinking murderer," Jack said slowly. "How can you want me to even come close to you?"  
  
"He's dead then?" Gwen pushed her hair out of her face and sat up straighter.  
  
"Aye. Killed him meself, slowly and painfully, and threw him overboard. Made his whole crew watch. He's shark bait now. Then we hung most of the officers, and about a third of the crew."  
  
"I heard you picked up Ralf in Nassau."  
  
"Aye. Nice enough kid. Scared to death. I can't tell if he's relieved that Reynard is dead, or if he's terrified that he's next."  
  
Gwen smiled. "You wouldn't do that."  
  
"What makes you so sure?"  
  
She took his face in her hands and looked him in the eyes. "Because I know you. Because I love you. Whatever you did to Reynard doesn't change that."  
  
"You don't know what I did to him."  
  
"I don't care what you did to him. I care what he did to me, to Elizabeth and Antonia and Annamaria and what his mate did to Jeannine. I care what he did to you, Jack."  
  
"What he did to me?"  
  
"He threatened everything you care about. Your wife, the wives of your friends, Anna, whom you've known and cared for for years and years. He wanted to take your ship, Jack. He wanted to take away everything you love."  
  
"I killed his brother."  
  
"That wasn't the reason for all this, it was just an excuse. He wanted to prove he was cleverer than you, stronger than you. He was wrong. And if you had to drive the lesson home so that it was well learned by all who were watching, then I'm the last person in the world who should blame you for it." Gwen moved closer and put her arms around his neck, her head on his shoulder.  
  
Jack held her close and breathed in the clean scent of her hair. "You should blame me. I'm the reason this happened to you."  
  
"No," Gwen said firmly, pulling back to look him in the face. "Reynard is the reason this happened to me, to us. You're the reason I made it through. It would have been easier to give in, to pretend a passion I didn't feel. To tell him everything he wanted to know about you. For heaven's sake, Jack, I could even have told him the best way to kill you. I didn't because I love you and because I know you love me."  
  
Jack grinned, his teeth flashing in the candlelight. "So, what's the best way to kill me, luv?  
  
Gwen assumed a haughty expression. "I'm not going to tell you. I may need the knowledge myself someday."  
  
Jack laughed lightly and pulled her against him again. "I do love you, Gwen. You've taken a weight off my shoulders." He pulled her wedding ring off his little finger and slipped it back into place on her left hand.  
  
She closed her hand around the ring and smiled at him. "I've missed this." She kissed him lightly on the lips. "Come to bed with me, my love."  
  
His heart felt lighter than it had in weeks. He was in his own bed, on his own ship, with the woman he loved. He was home. His body, denied sleep for two stressful days, begged to be allowed to relax, to drift. But then Gwen's smooth hands stroked his chest and her soft lips touched his mouth, and he decided he could stand to stay awake for just a little while longer.  
  
-- 


	36. Chapter 36

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 36  
  
The next morning, the rest of the Vixen's crew were rowed out to the beach and left there to fend for themselves. Annamaria was given temporary command of the Vixen, with Markson acting as first mate. Enough of the Pearl's crew was brought aboard to enable to Vixen to sail, although it would be a slow trip for both ships without quite enough men to function as well as they might. First they would stop at the beach a few miles down the coast and drop Captain Hale off at his own ship. Then they'd set a course for Port Royal.  
  
Jeannine had volunteered to assist in the galley of the Vixen, since they were so short handed. The assistant cook from the Pearl had come over to cook, but he was glad of Jeannine's help. Back on the Pearl, Elizabeth and Antonia had volunteered to help in that galley. If it didn't suit Norrington's pride to have his bride peeling potatoes, he was at least wise enough to keep his mouth shut.  
  
Annamaria stood at the helm, enjoying the feel of the Vixen under her hands. She was smaller than the Pearl, and not as fast, but she was as formidable as most of the ships in the Caribbean. It was a thrill being in command, even if it was only temporary. She didn't know Jack's plans for the ship, though she imagined he'd sell it. She stroked the smooth wood of the wheel and smiled.  
  
Markson came up on deck and headed for the quarterdeck to take his watch. Annamaria glanced up at the Pearl, a couple hundred yards off their port bow, and turned over the helm. Markson took it with a smile. Anna smiled back and leaned against the rail of the quarterdeck. "So, Lieutenant, have you spoken with Jeannine lately?"  
  
Markson's smile disappeared. "No, she seems to be avoiding me."  
  
Anna's eyes narrowed. "Or is it the other way around?"  
  
Markson's habitual pleasant expression hardened. "What do you mean by that, Anna?" The he corrected himself, "Oh excuse me, ma'am."  
  
Annamaria waved off the courtesy. "I'm asking as a friend, Richard," she emphasized his name, "not as Acting Captain."  
  
"Then as a friend, Anna," he said, emphasizing the name in his turn, "what do you mean?"  
  
"You seemed attracted to her before. Has what happened aboard the Vixen put you off?"  
  
Markson stared at her, the snapped his eyes back forward again. "Well that's blunt."  
  
"Answer the question, Richard."  
  
After a long pause, he said carefully, "Not in the way you mean. I was horrified when I first found out what had happened. She's so delicate and pretty, and he was so coarse and brutish. I've hung men before in my position in the Navy. Flogged them too. I've always considered it a distasteful duty, something that must be done. This time though, I was positively glad to do it. If Captain Sparrow and the Commodore had decided to maroon MacKenzie instead of hang him, I'd have done my utmost to convince them to change their minds. If that didn't work," he said honestly, "I'd probably have crept down to the brig in the middle of the night and shot the bastard."  
  
"But how do you feel about her?"  
  
"I don't know what to say to her, Anna. I don't want to insult her or frighten her. I wouldn't blame her if she never wanted to speak to another man again."  
  
"What she needs," Anna said firmly, "is for a man to persuade her that she isn't damaged just because she's no longer a virgin."  
  
Markson winced at the phrase, "Bloody hell, Anna. You have all the delicacy of a cannon."  
  
"I'm a pirate, not a society miss," she replied sarcastically. "Try a little gallantry, you idiot. You're usually more charming than this."  
  
"So you want me to charm her? Woo her with my silver tongue? Could I flatter my way into her bed, do you think?" Markson glared at Annamaria. "What kind of blackguard do you think I am?"  
  
Annamaria gritted her teeth. "I'm not talking about setting her up for heartbreak, you jackass, I'm talking about you treating her as if you thought she was an attractive lady, with the emphasis on LADY."  
  
"I take orders from you in regard to sailing this ship," Markson snarled. "I don't take orders from you for anything else."  
  
"Definitely a jackass," Annamaria muttered. With a flinty glare and a chilly, "Carry on Lieutenant," she marched from the quarterdeck.  
  
"Aye, ma'am," he called after her, in no less chilly tones. "Bitch," he muttered under his breath.  
  
"I heard that," floated her reply back to him.  
  
"I'd be surprised if it insulted you!" Markson snarled after her.  
  
"It doesn't!"  
  
Markson glared out at the unoffending ocean before him. He was almost as astonished at himself as he was angry at Annamaria. If he'd spoken that way to Gillette or Norrington, he'd be facing a flogging, time in the brig or both for insubordination. A pirate captain might just have shot him on the spot. Joseph came up to the quarterdeck a few minutes later. Markson eyed him apprehensively. "Are you here to beat me senseless for insulting Annamaria?"  
  
Joseph smiled slightly, amused. "No, though if any of the crew had heard you, I'd have to."  
  
"I can't believe what she said made me as angry as it did."  
  
Joseph shrugged. "Hit a tender spot most likely."  
  
"Joseph," Markson began, "You live with a lady who has been through some difficult times."  
  
"That's a delicate way of putting it."  
  
"What's your advice to me?"  
  
"About Miss St. Cyr?" Joseph leaned back against the rail and folded his arms over his chest. "Depends on what you want. Are you looking for a lighthearted flirtation with no strings, or were you thinking of courting her seriously?"  
  
"Hell, Joseph! I've only known her a few days!"  
  
"Doesn't have to take much longer than that. I knew I wanted Annamaria the first day I saw her."  
  
Markson blew out his breath in annoyance. "Why does she care if I court Jeannine or not?"  
  
Joseph looked even more amused. "Because she cares about both of you. Do I really need to tell you that?"  
  
"So she's trying to set the two of us up?"  
  
Joseph grinned. "If you think Annamaria is annoying, wait until the next time Mrs. Turner sees you."  
  
Markson groaned. "Lord, the woman will be relentless." He looked over a Joseph. "I'm a lieutenant in the Navy, man. I've got no expectations worthy of the name, so I have to live on my pay. I can't afford to court anyone seriously. I'm not in a position to support a wife."  
  
"So you are thinking seriously."  
  
Markson glared at Joseph. "You're as annoying as Annamaria."  
  
Joseph's grin stretched even wider. "That fails to insult me. You're not as skilled at that as your Commodore is."  
  
"Obviously I need further lessons."  
  
--  
  
"Will," Jack called, walking across the deck. "Have a moment?"  
  
Will mopped his brow and sheathed his sword. "Of course." He turned back to the half dozen men he'd been instructing. "Same time tomorrow morning, gents. Spend a few minutes between now and then practicing point control." As the men dispersed, Will turned and accompanied Jack to the rail. "What's on your mind, Jack?"  
  
"Reynard the Fox."  
  
"Oh." Will rubbed the back of his neck. "That was hard to watch, Jack."  
  
"I know," Jack said. "I'd like to say it was hard to do, but I'd be lying."  
  
"That was a big part of it," Will said. "I've never seen or heard of you acting so mercilessly. You can be ruthless, but I've never known you to be cruel."  
  
Jack looked directly into Will's eyes. "I've never done anything like that before. And God as my witness, I hope I never need to do so again. Although, I'm not sorry I did it."  
  
"No, I wouldn't expect you to be. Jack, don't try to apologize to me for it. It isn't necessary. If ever a man deserved such an end, it was Reynard."  
  
"I don't want you to think I've turned into a monster."  
  
"I don't. Just don't expect me to watch that sort of thing again."  
  
"I don't intend to ever have to do that sort of thing again."  
  
"Fair enough."  
  
-- 


	37. Chapter 37

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 37  
  
Markson brooded for the entire day about his conversations with Annamaria and Joseph. There was just enough truth to Anna's question, about being put off by Jeannine experience, to sting. He didn't consider her damaged, per se, but he imagined that her emotional state would be rather fragile. He would dive into battle to protect her without a moment's hesitation. But when faced with the actual woman, complete with tears and fears, he didn't know what to do.  
  
--  
  
That evening, Jeannine sat in a secluded spot near the bow and watched the sun set over the Caribbean. It seemed ages ago that she had watched the sun go down from the porch of her family's home on Martinique. Had it only be a few weeks? So much had happened to her that she scarcely recognized the girl she had been. It was time to think about her future. The pirates who had taken their ship had probably killed her brother. If he wasn't dead, he would most likely have returned to Martinique. When she reached Port Royal she'd send a letter to the owner of the plantation that her brother had worked on explaining the situation and inquiring after him. She'd best write to her aunt in New Orleans as well. She would stay in Port Royal for a while, until she'd heard back from them, but after that she should resume her interrupted trip to New Orleans. Elizabeth had invited her to stay with the Turners in Port Royal. Jeannine intended to accept, and hoped that she wouldn't need to impose upon her new friends for more than a few weeks.  
  
Markson strolled quietly along the rail as the sun went down, enjoying the peace of the evening. He was nearly past her when he noticed a flash of blue sprigged calico out of the corner of his eye. "I beg your pardon, Miss St. Cyr. I almost failed to notice you."  
  
Jeannine smiled faintly. "Think nothing of it, Lieutenant. I was just enjoying the sunset."  
  
"Do you mind if I join you?" At her surprised assent, Markson sat down on the deck, leaned back against the bulkhead and stretched his legs out. "I never grow tired of the Caribbean sunset," he mused, "It is so much more beautiful than it was back in England."  
  
"You are originally from England, then?" Jeannine asked.  
  
"Yes, near Dover," he said absently.  
  
"Tell me about it," Jeannine said.  
  
Nearly two hours later, Annamaria came up on deck for a last check on everything before turning in. Hearing voices, she moved quietly closer until she was able to identify the speakers. Richard Markson and Jeannine St. Cyr. Anna smiled smugly to herself in the darkness, and walked quietly away.  
  
--  
  
Markson drifted out of slumber to awareness of a stiff neck and shoulder. He blinked, his uncomprehending eyes seeing the dark ocean before him, and the sky just beginning to lighten with the approaching dawn. What on earth was he doing on deck instead of in his bunk? As memory returned, he glanced down to see Jeannine's dark head resting on his shoulder. Lord, they must have fallen asleep out here. He considered for a moment allowing her to continue sleeping, but his shoulder was screaming and the dawn watch would be stirring soon. Gently he tightened the arm that encircled her shoulders. "Jeannine,' he whispered in her ear. "Jeannine, wake up." She came awake with a start, instantly alarmed, sitting bolt upright and staring wide eyed, first at the dark ocean, then at him. "Easy," he soothed. "We fell asleep out here. It's nearly dawn. Best get back to your own bed, Jeannine." He got to his feet, ignoring his protesting muscles, and extended a hand to her.  
  
Jeannine rubbed a hand over her eyes. "Of course. How silly of us." She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. "I suppose I have another hour or so before I'm due in the galley."  
  
He quirked a smile and offered her his arm. "Then let me escort you."  
  
She smiled in return and accepted his arm. A few moments later they stopped at the door of the cabin she occupied. He opened the door for her, bowed and would have walked away, but she put up a hand to stop him. "Richard, come in with me."  
  
He blinked. "I beg your pardon?"  
  
She took his hand and tugged, pulling him into the cabin and shutting the door behind him. "Richard, I want you to show me that it doesn't have to be painful and ugly and disgusting. Please?"  
  
Richard looked at her in shock. "B..but Jeannine! I can't just....!"  
  
Jeannine put her hand on his arm and looked up at him, her soft blue eyes beseeching. "Please don't reject me, Richard."  
  
He stepped back and ran his hand through his hair, making it stick up in spots. "Of course I'm not rejecting you, or well, actually, I'm... well...uh..." He trailed off. Clearing his throat he tried again. "It's not a question of rejection, Jeannine, it's a matter of suitability."  
  
She arched a brow. "What does that mean?"  
  
"You can't have thought this through. It isn't right that a respectable young girl should have a romantic liason with a naval officer with no prospects."  
  
"I don't imagine that I have the right to call myself respectable any longer," she said dryly.  
  
"Don't be foolish, girl," he said indignantly. "You did a brave and noble thing. You very likely saved the lives of three fine men, as well as Mrs. Sparrow, and you were instrumental in bringing down a vicious pirate. All of us on this ship and on the Black Pearl are in your debt. What happened to you was a terrible thing, but it doesn't change that fact."  
  
"Even if all you say is true," Jeannine said steadily, "I can't imagine that the fine ladies of either your home or mine would consider that I had any pretensions to respectability. Being kidnapped by pirates, being sold to a brothel, voluntarily going aboard another pirate vessel, not to mention being ravished. And then there's my situation now. Here I am, aboard a captured ship, working in the galley, with only the most casual chaperonage. Do you really think that any respectable matron would consider Annamaria Simone to be a proper chaperone? A privateer who is an escaped slave, a woman who lives with a man without being married? We just spent the night together on deck, Richard. That alone would damn me in the eyes of respectability." She moved closer and stroked his cheek. "I'm already condemned, Richard. All I want now is to know what it feels like to be with someone who cares for me."  
  
He tried again, desperately. "Jeannine, I.."  
  
"No," she said, laying a finger on his lips. "Don't say anything. I don't want to hear you say you don't love me, or that you aren't interested in a relationship. You enjoy my company and that's enough for now. Just kiss me, Richard."  
  
--  
  
Eight days after leaving Reynard's small island near New Providence, the Black Pearl, the Vixen and the Sandpiper sailed into Port Royal. The trip should have taken less time, but they took it slowly because both the larger ships were so short handed. They'd sighted Spanish sail near Cuba, but by staying close together, they'd presented a larger target than the Dons were willing to undertake.  
  
As soon as the black sails were sighted, messengers headed for the Governor's house and the Fort. By the time the ships dropped anchor and the small boats were launched, the Governor was pacing restlessly back and forth along the docks. Consumed with worry about his daughter and his niece, Governor Swann looked haggard. He'd lost weight and his eyes had deep circles beneath them. Captain Gillette was also waiting.  
  
The first boat in from the Pearl contained Commodore Norrington, Antonia, Will and Elizabeth, as well as two burly sailors who did the rowing. The boat had scarcely touched the dock when Elizabeth scrambled out and flung herself into her father's arms. Governor Swann was so overcome with joy at the safe return of his daughter that he forbore to chide her for her indecorous greeting.  
  
Captain Gillette courteously handed Antonia out of the boat before saluting his Commodore. "Sir, welcome back. I see your quest has been successful."  
  
Norrington crisply saluted back and climbed out onto the dock. "Yes, Captain. Quite successful. Lt. Markson is aboard the captured pirate vessel, the Vixen. I imagine he'll be disembarking shortly." Norrington gestured toward the barque, lying at anchor not far from the Pearl. He turned to the Governor. "Governor Swann, I need to speak to you regarding this business. The Captain of that sloop there," he nodded toward the Sandpiper, "is due a reward for his invaluable aid and information. I need to return to the Fort at present, but I hope I can call upon you later today or tomorrow."  
  
Governor Swann smiled warmly and clasped Norrington's hand. "By all means. Come to dinner tonight. Invite the Captain if you will."  
  
"Indeed, Governor. Thank you." He reached for Antonia's hand. "Your niece and I were married aboard ship a week ago. We are, however, eager to renew our vows in your presence."  
  
As the Governor raised his eyebrows in surprise, Norrington kissed Antonia's hand. "Go with your uncle now, my dear. I'll see you at dinner tonight, and we will discuss how to proceed."  
  
--  
  
When their boat reached the dock, Markson courteously handed Jeannine out before climbing out himself. They'd spent considerable time together during the voyage, including several nights. Now that the trip was over, neither was quite sure what the future of their relationship might be. If it even had a future. Markson glanced around the dock. The Governor's carriage was gone. The carriage from the fort was gone as well. Well, they'd been so delayed leaving the Vixen, it was no wonder. Markson looked down at Jeannine and smiled. Neither had wanted to leave the ship – to take the step back into reality. He offered her his arm. "Allow me to escort you to the Turner residence, my dear."  
  
-- 


	38. Chapter 38

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 38  
  
Commodore Norrington sat at his desk frowning at the man standing before it. It was five days after his return to Port Royal. Three days before, he and Antonia had been joined in holy (and legal) matrimony in a simple ceremony in the Fort chapel. Today was his first day back to regular duty, and Captain Gillette had spent the last ten minutes enumerating in great detail all the reasons why Lt. Markson should be demoted and/or transferred to a remote and insignificant post. "Yes, Captain. I've been meaning to ask you why Lt. Markson was denied the use of the Dauntless," Norrington said evenly.  
  
Gillette smirked genteelly. "I did not feel he could be trusted with such a ship, sir. As you must recall, when you were injured in the battle with the Santa Catalina two years ago, he stood idly by why that pirate usurped his command. I would not dream of putting the Dauntless into his hands again."  
  
The Commodore pressed his fingertips together. "At the time he was rather green, and would not have fared as well in the battle as Captain Sparrow did. As irregular as it may sound, I'm not sorry Lt. Markson was aware of his limitations. Since then I've found he has gained considerable experience and knowledge. Do you not agree, Captain?"  
  
Gillette sniffed. "Haring off on a wild goose chase on the strength of a scrap of fabric and the word of an avowed whore. Then to abandon his troop and take ship with a smuggler. Preposterous I call it, sir."  
  
"It did turn out," said Norrington mildly, "that he was correct."  
  
"It was unseemly, sir," Gillette maintained, unswayed.  
  
Norrington shuffled absently through the papers on his desk, his fingers lingering on one of them. If he'd had any doubts about his course of action, this interview had laid them to rest. A slight smile appeared on his lips. "I've a meeting scheduled with several people shortly," he said to Gillette, "to clear up the loose ends from that unfortunate business. Lt. Markson is one of the people I am expecting. I hadn't thought to invite you, since you were not directly involved, but if you wish to stay I have no objection."  
  
"Thank you, Commodore," Gillette replied. "I would like that." At that moment, a young aid appeared in the doorway to announce the first of the Commodore's visitors.  
  
Twenty minutes later, the Commodore's spacious office was crowded. There were only a few chairs, and the ladies occupied these. Elizabeth, Gwen, Antonia and Jeannine sat together at one end of the room. A fifth chair stood empty. The Governor's sense of propriety would not allow him to sit down while a lady was yet standing, but he felt at a loss as to how to qualify Annamaria. She wasn't precisely a lady, but she wasn't a servant either. He didn't know how to behave gallantly to a woman who was wearing breeches and a sword belt. Elizabeth saw her father dithering over the empty chair and understood his dilemma, but she hadn't been able to catch Annamaria's eye. Anna was on the opposite side of the room, talking to Will and Lt. Markson in a low voice. Captain Sparrow and Captain Hale were swapping stories near the door. Ralf stood in a corner, looking as though he wished himself elsewhere. Joseph, as usual, was standing nearby. Captain Gillette stood near the Commodore, a superior look on his face. Antonia, who knew exactly what would be happening with this meeting, smiled to herself. That smug look would be wiped off shortly.  
  
Norrington raised his voice, quieting the chatter. "Good day to you all. Everyone is assembled now, so perhaps we should proceed with our business today." He nodded to the Governor. "Governor Swann, do you wish to begin?"  
  
"Yes," the Governor answered. "Captain Hale," he began, "your intervention was instrumental in rescuing my daughter and my niece as well as the other women. A reward is certainly due you." He picked up a weighty purse from the Commodore's desk. He held it out to Hale, who stepped forward to take it. "I also have for you a letter of pardon for past acts of smuggling. In the future, however, I strongly encourage you to cease such activities." Hale murmured his thanks and took the purse and the letter. He did not for a minute intend to cease smuggling, but it was hardly polite to say so.  
  
"Ralf," the Governor continued, picking up another purse. "Your information was most timely and necessary. I am grateful your conscience compelled you to step forward." He handed Ralf the purse. "Commodore Norrington has also offered to sponsor you into the navy if you choose. If you wish to remain aboard the Black Pearl as a privateer sailor, Captain Sparrow has said he would be more than willing to have you. If you prefer to sign onto a merchant ship, there are several in port at the moment. Commodore Norrington, Captain Sparrow and myself have written a character for you, which should help you find a post to your liking." He handed the papers to the dumbstruck Ralf, who found he could do no more than bow awkwardly, his face beet red. Governor Swann nodded courteously to Jack. "Your business comes next I believe, Captain."  
  
"Aye." Jack stepped forward. "As you know, the ship known as the Vixen was taken as a prize. At this time I would like to turn her over to a new Captain." Jack looked directly at Annamaria. "She now belongs to you, Captain Simone." He held out a leather bound logbook. Anna stood stock still, her mouth wide open. Will put a hand on her back and shoved her toward Jack, who grinned widely, his gold teeth gleaming. He put the logbook into her hands. "She's been refitted and renamed," Jack continued. "I thought you would not object."  
  
Anna traced her fingers over the name embossed on the cover of the book. "The Garnet. You named her the Garnet."  
  
"Suits you, luv." Jack said proudly. "She suits you."  
  
Governor Swann cleared his throat and stepped forward also. "And I have for you, Captain Simone, letters of marque." He held them out. "You will accept them, will you not?"  
  
Annamaria took them almost as if she didn't know what she was doing. "Thank you, sir," she managed to say at last.  
  
Grinning broadly, Joseph caught her arm and pulled her back from the center of the room as Jack stepped back once more.  
  
Commodore Norrington surveyed the crowd. "I believe it is now my turn." He turned toward Markson. "Lieutenant."  
  
Markson stepped forward and saluted smartly. "Sir."  
  
"Lieutenant, your orders are to travel to Baltimore and oversee the work being done on His Majesty's newest ship, the Relentless. I believe she is due for her maiden voyage in less than four weeks time. When she is launched you will bring her back here to Port Royal, where you will receive further orders." Norrington smiled. "She will be under your command, Captain Markson."  
  
It was Markson's turn to stammer in shock. "Y..y..es, sir, th..th..thank you, sir."  
  
Norrington smiled more widely and handed him his written orders. "I have every confidence in your abilities, Captain."  
  
Markson swallowed hard. "Yes, sir. I'm honored, sir."  
  
--  
  
Antonia had organized a small reception in the Commodore's quarters. It wasn't too elaborate, but the wine was excellent and the canapés plentiful. As usual, Jack had attracted a small group of young officers who were hanging on his every word as he told a fantastically embroidered tale of piracy on the high seas. Will was only half listening. Surely he'd heard this particular story before? The last time Jack had told it, there had only been three Spanish ships. Gillette, whose face lacked its usual air of smugness, sipped at his wine and left as soon as it was courteously possible. Joseph and Ralf had also bolted as soon as they could, forsaking the fine wine and good food for the relief of not having to mingle with the gentry. Annamaria, in whose honor this party was jointly being held, could not slip out, but she resolved to warm Joseph's ears to make him pay for his desertion as soon as she next saw him.  
  
Markson reeled from group to group, accepting congratulations on his promotion and new command, his joy and astonishment blurring the room. Suddenly he found himself alone save for a single figure at his elbow. His gaze focused on Jeannine. Elizabeth had taken her shopping, he noticed. The rose colored brocade suited her and he smiled at the string of white pearls at her throat. "Congratulations, Richard," she said softly.  
  
Markson reached out and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. He'd called at the Turner's twice in the last five days, but it felt so ridiculous to sit formally in the parlor drinking tea with her. It seemed like they were pretending that the nights they'd spent together aboard ship either hadn't happened, or hadn't mattered. "I've missed you, Jeannie," he said quietly.  
  
She looked amused. "You saw me yesterday."  
  
He didn't smile. "That's not what I meant. Meet me tonight. On the Garnet."  
  
She looked uncomfortable, and glanced around. "I'm not sure I can."  
  
Markson kissed her hand again, and moved off. "I'll be waiting, my love."  
  
-- 


	39. Chapter 39

Revenge of the Fox  
  
Chapter 39 – Last Chapter  
  
"Ahoy the Garnet," Markson called as the small boat approached the newly renamed ship.  
  
"Richard," called Annamaria, tossing over the rope ladder. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"A romantic assignation," Markson said blithely, climbing the ladder.  
  
"You're using my ship for a romantic assignation?" Annamaria asked with raised eyebrows. "Rather cheeky of you, don't you think?"  
  
"Since you're the one who wanted me to become involved with the girl," Markson retorted, "I hardly thought you'd object."  
  
"Definitely cheeky," she stated firmly. "Use your own damn ship."  
  
"My ship is up in Baltimore still only half built," Markson pointed out. "And I'd like to see Commodore Norrington's face if I asked him if I could use the Dauntless to meet a woman."  
  
Despite herself, Annamaria laughed. "I don't think he'd appreciate it much." She shook her head. "Why can't you just call on her at Will and Elizabeth's?"  
  
He shrugged. "I've done that. It feels all wrong – too formal. Tea and scones and polite conversation. I have to see her here again, where we began this."  
  
It was Anna's turn to shrug. "I suppose. I don't have a full crew yet, so the cabin you slept in on the way back from New Providence is empty if you'd like some privacy."  
  
Markson grinned. "You make a dreadful chaperone."  
  
She smiled back at him. "Too right."  
  
"Ahoy the Garnet," called a voice from below. Markson and Annamaria looked over to see Will rowing closer.  
  
"And what are you doing here?" Annamaria demanded.  
  
Will stowed the oars and put out his hand to help Jeannine to the rope ladder. "Escorting a lady."  
  
Anna shook her head. "And here I was thinking romantic assignations were supposed to be secret."  
  
Markson assisted Jeannine over the rail, and then leaned over to wave Will off. "You'll see her safely home, Richard, won't you?" Will called as he got the oars back out.  
  
"On my honor," Markson replied.  
  
--  
  
Dawn was barely peeking over the horizon when Jeannine crept cautiously into the house through the kitchen door. Removing her shoes, she slipped through the darkened rooms toward the stairs and up to the second floor. While she knew that her hosts knew perfectly well where she'd been, she preferred not to wake them. However, when she eased open the door to her room she saw that Elizabeth was sitting at the dressing table, wide-awake and waiting for her.  
  
"What are you doing awake?" Jeannine whispered.  
  
"I heard Richard's horse in the street," Elizabeth replied. "Spent the whole night with him, did you?"  
  
"Obviously," Jeannine said dryly. She moved behind the screen and began unlacing her bodice.  
  
"So are you going to tell me about it or not?"  
  
Jeannine poked her head around the screen. "Why do you need to hear about my love life? Don't you have your own husband?"  
  
"That isn't what I meant and you know it," replied Elizabeth, torn between annoyance and amusement.  
  
Jeannine relented, coming out from behind the screen and putting her dressing gown on. "We agreed to be sensible about this. We've hardly known each other for more than a few weeks. He's off to Baltimore in a few days, and he won't be back for a month at least."  
  
Elizabeth looked skeptical. "It took you the whole night to come to this conclusion?"  
  
'No," Jeannine admitted with a rueful smile. "We didn't start talking about it until we got in the boat to come back to shore."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And," Jeannine answered, sitting down on the bed. "I promised to still be here when he came back, and we'd take it from there. Satisfied?"  
  
Elizabeth looked smug. "Now that he's been promoted, he'll be able to afford to marry."  
  
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Elizabeth. I don't want to jump from the frying pan into the fire. I want to be sure this is right."  
  
Not looking at all chastised, Elizabeth rose and moved toward the door. "Well, it must have seemed right enough to have spent the entire night with the man – not talking."  
  
"Good night, Elizabeth," said Jeannine firmly.  
  
"Good night, Jeannine," she answered with a knowing smile.  
  
--  
  
The anchor was raised, and the sooty black sails were unfurled to catch the wind. Slowly, the Black Pearl began to ease from the harbor, picking up speed as she neared the open sea. Gwen stood at the rail, looking back at Port Royal. She'd miss her friends there; she always did. However, this was where she belonged. Odd to not have Annamaria aboard, but it was time for Anna to fly alone. She closed her eyes and felt the wind caress her face. Then she felt her hair tumble down around her shoulders, and the wind whip it into disarray. Spinning around, she saw Jack standing there, a lascivious grin on his face and a pile of hairpins in his hand. She hadn't even heard him come up behind her. Drat the man! If he'd done this to her once, he'd done it a hundred times. She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. "Are you so fond of rats' nests that you like my hair to look like one?"  
  
"Hmmmm," he murmured provocatively. "Perhaps we should go below and I can comb it out for you." He smoothed the tangled locks from her face and bent his head to kiss her.  
  
Gwen abandoned all pretense of anger and wound her arms around his neck. "Mmmm," she murmured. "Perhaps we should."  
  
THE END  
  
Authors Notes – Wow, this one has been a long one. The characters ended up doing completely different things than I had originally intended – does that happen to everyone else? Thank you everyone for sticking with me! I truly intended this to be the last one as well, but I got another idea a little while back, and well, you know. It'll probably take me several weeks to get enough written to start posting, however. If you like, leave me your email addresses when you review (notice how smoothly I snuck that in! () and I'll let you know when I begin posting. 


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